Ocean Blue
by empurple
Summary: "Darling, won't you tell me there's another way to be by your side?" Francis is intrigued by the young woman that Antonio keeps so near. He never knew she represented more than just Aragon. Pirate! Spain, Pirate! England, Pirate! France. Spuk and FrancexOC. More pairings to be mentioned, more to come. Rated M for the situations and harsh languages.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **There's actually a large chance that this will end up in an UsUk and Spamano fic... But ah well.

Warning: Human names used. Original Character present. Inspired by the song written by my friend, aaalittlered.

* * *

Honestly, Antonio didn't know how it ended up that way. However, one thing was for sure: whether he admitted it or not, directly or indirectly, he, Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, played quite a part in it.

"Capitan!"

The girl who had called him peeked through his cabin door. She had the same sun-kissed skin he had, and jet black hair tied in a messy ponytail. She had bright eyes and lush pink lips, but her features were sharp – much like his as well – and he chuckled as he recalled it, she was "one tough _chica_".

"Capitan Arturo and Capitan Francis have come aboard."

Antonio released a soft chuckle. "_Si. Gracias,_" he started, grabbing his coat and tossing a bottle of wine to the girl, who caught it quite easily, "Bring that to my dining deck and serve some for both of them – and yourself."

"_Si Capitan."_ And with a thud of the door, she had gone.

The Captain of the Spanish Armada, and the very personification of Spain himself, hurriedly ran a hand through his hair, fixing the red ribbon that bound it before rushing out to follow his right hand man – er, woman. She was found by him upon reaching his dining quarters, pointing a dagger at the French pirate.

"It's okay, _amigo_," Antonio started, coming in and moving his best friend away from his feisty subordinate, "Alicia is _very nice_ when you get to know her."

Francis, on his audacity, pretended to be shocked, "That was a _woman_?"

If Alicia didn't like it, she said nothing but withdrew and sheathed her dagger. However, she turned to the other occupant of the room, "You left something the last time you were here, Capitan Arturo. That is why we have asked you to come onto the ship."

The English pirate grew a vibrant shade of red, "Wh-what are you talking about?" He missed the glimmer of mischief in the young Spaniard's eye.

Both Antonio and Alicia smirked, exchanging knowing glances, and Francis blinked at the scene, "Arthur, _mon ami_, is there something you aren't telling me?" he teased.

A different dagger was thrown this time, and Alicia had to pull Francis away from its sharp sting. Scowling, the young woman crossed her arms over her chest, "Tch," she muttered, "And you call yourself a Capitan."

"She was serious…" Antonio began, predatorily making his way towards Arthur, who only grumbled under his breath, "… When she said that you left something behind."

"Eh?" the Brit honestly looked confused, "What is it, then?"

Antonio pulled him by the hand quite shamelessly and led him out, "It is in my quarters."

"Capitan!" called Alicia. Antionio looked back. She tossed him a small vial with light, pinkish liquid and the Captain grinned.

"This is why I can't let you go, Alicia," and Antonio left, leaving the young woman smirking at them.

Francis eyed her with curiosity, "So… You are pining for him, huh?"

Alicia raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about, Capitan Francis?" she demanded, pouring wine into two glasses before handing one to the Frenchman. She was, after all, only being polite.

"Toni," Francis breathed out, taking the glass she offered, "You have feelings for-"

But he stopped talking when the young Spaniard burst out laughing.

"… Was I wrong?"

The young girl wiped away her tears of laughter and took a drink of wine, "Capitan and I are like…" she paused and waved a hand dismissively, "_Familia_." She grinned at his shocked expression, "You could say that _I am a part of him_." She stressed the last few fragments as her eyes twinkled with delight, "That, and my loyalties lie with nobody else…"

"And that shackles you to him."

Alicia's eyes narrowed dangerously, "What do you mean?"

"I know Toni," Francis began, talking slow steps towards her, "He is rather _possessive, _is he not?" And to prove his point, a few moans of pleasure emanated from the decks below. "I am quite positive that he never lets you out of this ship without him, or without an escort,"

Alicia's breathing began to hitch, but she decided to say nothing. The Frenchman smirked.

"Toni likes keeping his treasures, hmm?" he continued, taking a graceful sip from his wine before placing it upon the nearest surface, "You know of his beloved henchman, of course?"

"Romano," the Spanish woman said shortly, meeting Francis' blue eyes.

"And you know where he is exactly?"

That was when Alicia snapped, "What do you want from me, Capitan Francis?" she demanded, edging away from the Frenchman, one hand to the sheathed dagger at her side.

"_Non, mon cher,_" A faint blush crept upon her cheeks as Francis' voice smoothly captivated her as he made his way towards her step by step, "The question is, rather, _what would you like from me_?" Brown orbs turned away, but Francis used a gentle hand to lift her chin so that she could face him, "I have a ship, excellent food, a lovely crew, many beautiful places to visit and the one thing I can see you yearning for more than anything else."

Alicia shuddered as she felt Francis' breath slowly pressing upon her skin as he whispered those words to her, "Wh-what is that?" she asked the Captain who nuzzled her neck.

_"Your freedom."_

And Alicia's wine glass came crashing to the floor.

**X.o.X**

"A-ah! Antonio!"

The Captain of the Spanish Armada was now _definitely_ giving the English Captain everything he had 'left'. The blond was pressed up against the walls of the Captain's quarters, moaning into the crook of Antonio's neck.

"You didn't let me say goodbye properly," the Spaniard whispered into Arthur's ear seductively, "You promised that we-"

Glass crashing against the wooden floors above made both Arthur and Antonio stop, "Wh-what was that?"

"Sh." Antonio pressed a soft kiss upon his lover's cheek.

For a moment, Arthur remained silent. "Hey, Antonio," began Arthur, "Did… Did we really leave Alicia with Francis up there?"

All of a sudden, Antonio tensed. His hold on the blond loosened and his expression darkened. Arthur saw his eyes narrow and there was a soft pair of lips that pecked him on the cheek, "_Gracias, mi amor._"

Arthur drew a deep breath to cool himself down before he returned the discarded pieces of clothing back unto his body.

Antonio ran back up to his dining deck, worried beyond belief about his beloved _hija_, only to find Francis – standing straddled with his arms pinned to his back, and a dagger to his throat – with Alicia angrily grasping his arm.

"Ow-ouch-"

"Touch me, you bastard, and I will castrate you and make you choke on your own balls before-"

Ah, that string of curses would make Arthur proud. "Alicia!" Antonio called out, and immediately, the young girl released the French Captain. Francis rubbed his wrists and raised a curious eyebrow as the Spanish Captain ran to fawn over the young woman, "Are you all right? Did he do something to you-"

"More of she did something to _me_, Toni," his best friend muttered, but Toni ignored him.

"No, Capitan," replied Alicia, avoiding her Captain's gaze guiltily, "Capitan Francis just gave me an offer that I had to refuse… Profoundly."

Antonio glared at Francis, who shrugged, "Nothing you do not already know, _mon ami._"

The Spanish Captain sighed, "Francis, _amigo_, I think I'll talk to you outside."

Francis shrugged and waltzed out of the room. As expected, Arthur was waiting for him by the doorway, "What the hell did you say now?"

"Something the girl needs to know," replied Francis, tilting his head ever so slightly to face the Englishman, "I mean, it doesn't even _have_ to be me – and I think she has the right to know that."

The Frenchman was about to walk further when Arthur spoke, "You don't understand what you're dealing with, frog."

And without waiting for a retort, Arthur went back into the dining room, just as Antonio walked out to converse with his best and most trusted friend. As the door shut, Arthur found the young girl picking up shards of broken glass from the floor.

"Tch," he grumbled, catching Alicia's attention, "Toni underestimates you."

Alicia chuckled, "He is just worried…" she began, looking up to meet Arthur's softening eyes, "As are you, I suppose… But you forget who I am. Regardless of all this, I am still-"

"You are still a woman."

With that, Alicia froze. Her hands grew numb and loose, and all the shards she had picked up crashed back once more upon the grazed, wooden floors. Her eyes were threatened by tears but they faced Arthur's emerald ones with much fervour, "I don't need to be reminded," she growled.

Arthur sighed, "Don't say it like it's a bad thing, m'dear," he began, walking across the room to look out the window, "But you know, he _is_ right."

"What?" Alicia breathed out, "Who?"

"Francis." Arthur replied shortly, making Alicia turn a light shade of pink, "He was honest with you, and you _do_ have a choice."

"I…" she stammered and attempted to find her words, "I don't think so."

"Oh, but you do," Arthur turned to her this time, "You have a choice. There are more things for you beyond these seas, beyond this ship."

Alicia frowned, "I can't leave Capitan Antonio alone."

Arthur laughed hollowly, "You always can, my dear," repeated the Englishman.

"You just choose not to."

**X.o.X**

Antonio kept a close watch on his young _hija_ after that… And Alicia knew what he was doing.

Weeks passed and the Armada had passed the English at least four times, and the French at least twice – one of which was at a port in the border of France and Spain. Although he left the ship in the docks, Antonio made sure that Alicia was never alone on board with the crew.

"_Buenos dias, Capitan Arturo!_"

A loud grumble was heard from the Spanish Captain's bed, and the blond attempted to cover himself with the sheets some more. He groaned again, noting that the cheery tune of the young woman's voice was akin to his lover's. He sighed, "Where are we?"

"Ports of Aragon," replied the young Spaniard quite shakily. Arthur did notice. She set the tray of food down on a table before drawing the curtains and letting sunlight stream into the room, "We've just anchored."

"Bloody hell," Arthur brought a hand to his head, "Antonio, that bastard…"

Alicia chuckled and brought the tray over to Arthur, "He wanted to get a better lunch for the both of you in the port – he knows you're sore,"

Arthur's eyes narrowed, no longer surprised at how much she knew, "And whose fault is that, exactly?"

"Have some tea," the Brit rolled his eyes at her segue, but sat up, his lithe chest exposed as he reached out for the cup. Alicia eyed him and sighed – Arthur certainly was Antonio's type: his captain liked them pretty, cute, but feisty, challenging and always playing hard-to-get. Alicia was _already_ like that, so for her…

"It's rude to stare."

"_Los siento_," Arthur still couldn't fathom just how similar Alicia and Antonio could be, but she tore her gaze away and handed him a plate of bread and butter, "I didn't mean anything by it…"

Arthur stared at her, until he finally sighed, "I'm not going to stop you, you know."

Alicia's eyes darted up, full of understanding, "But I can't, Capitan."

"You always can," continued Arthur, taking a sip of tea and knowing he'll have a pain in the ass for this later, "You just choose not to – as always."

The young girl had a hard expression before she bit her lower lip and sighed exasperatedly, "I miss my home."

"Here."

And Arthur offered his wrist, "Tie me to the bed."

Alicia blinked. Twice. "What?"

"Tie me to the bed," repeated the Brit, "You know very well that Antonio would not believe that you would be able to over-power me without me letting my guard down… So, tie me."

For a moment, Alicia just stared at him, but then, she pulled on the red ribbon that bound her hair and tugged it off, "I owe you for this, Capitan Arturo," and she bound the Englishman's dominant hand to the bed post, "… Although I've been made aware that you like kinky things like this."

And Alicia smirked as the Brit turned a shade of red that would give a tomato a run for its money, and he pelted the bread knife at her head, missing only because she evaded, "Shut up!"

Arthur, however, grinned despite himself, "Go now. I know you miss this town."

Alicia didn't need telling twice. She bowed and muttered a low, _"Gracias."_ Before she stumbled out of the room. At that very moment, Arthur mentally kicked himself because he knew that his lover would certainly not be amused.

**X.o.X**

The sails were set and the winds were blowing. The French Navy ready to sail back towards Paris, avoiding the English at all costs, and they reloaded their supplies at the Port of Aragon. Regardless of his cheery crew and the fact that the drunken, erotic Englishman had not stepped any more than five feet towards him, Francis was still quite bothered. Usually, he would love to sail on a day like this: clear blue skies, wide ocean blues that reflected them – he loved the simplicity of things, the beauty of things. Days like this, without war, never came so often.

He turned to his staff captain, who nodded at his gaze, _"All hands on deck! Raise the anchor! Move back, then hard to starboard!"_

The port was far from his sight when he went up to the bridge and took a rather deep and calming breath.

"Ah," he breathed out, taking in the saltiness of the deep blue seas, "What a wonderful day to set sail – a long day of sailing."

All of a sudden, from the main mast, blur of black and white dropped before him. The large hat she wore above her head looked so familiar – and he realized why, when he was met by a girl with sharp, Hispanic features, a loose white tunic that hung over her shoulders, covering a sleeveless black camisole underneath. Her legs were covered by a thin, black fabric, but her short, layered skirt, with all its lace and intricate details gave everything away. Her boots lightly thumped against the wooden floors and once she stood to look at him, she gave a wide, knowing smirk.

Francis' fleet suddenly began to point their weapons at her direction.

Alicia chuckled, a hand making its way onto her waist, "Care for a stow-away, Capitan?"

* * *

**A/N:** Gracias for reading!


	2. Capitulo 1

**A/N:** Uh, yeah. This is originally for my OC when I rp online, but I got inspired by the song my friend made. I've already decided: this is SpUk, but ends up in Spamano and UsUk, okay? Okay. So if you wouldn't like that, you can stop reading when I get there. Gracias, mi amigos.

* * *

The morning began peak and the crack of dawn awakened the slumbering Spaniard aboard one of the biggest ships the armada could keep afloat. In his arms lay the usually grumpy Englishman, still fast asleep. At that sight, Antonio's eyes narrowed – it was early, indeed, but he shouldn't be the one awake at the hour. Somebody would usually come in to wake Arthur up for his first cup of tea, then wake Antonio up to sober himself up to be able to take the wheel. It wasn't unusual that this morning was different, but finding his lover tied naked to the bed the previous night was very tempting – and he was easily swayed that way. In that sense, both he and Arthur got what they wanted…

All of a sudden, it dawned on him.

_"Mierda."_

And as quickly as he can, Antonio jumped of the bed, making Arthur stir, scavenged the discarded pieces of cloth for his clothes before donning them and running out of his cabin. He shouted for his crew to get up, and pile up on deck and his emerald eyes glared at them when they stood before him.

"Answer me," he said in a low voice, "And you should answer me honestly…" Many of the crew exchanged nervous glances, "What the hell did you do with Alicia? _Where the hell is she?_"

None of his crew dared to speak.

Angry, Antonio pulled out his pistol, making some of the crew begin to back away. They knew what would be happening.

"Wait, Antonio."

Arthur emerged from his quarters, with his pants on and his shirt undone. The Spaniard raised a demanding eyebrow at him and the Brit sighed, "Your crew had nothing to do with it."

Green eyes met green and Antonio growled, "I knew it."

At once, Arthur's eyes widened, "Wait, what?!" he demanded, "No, it's not what you think!"

"You're taking Francis' side? You _want_ her to be with that pervert-"

"I want her to be _free_, Antonio!"

"She can't be! It's too dangerous! You know as well as I that people are-"

"But this isn't _just_ people, Toni!" Arthur had now grabbed the front of Antonio's coat, "This is _Francis_. And this is Alicia we're now talking about…"

Antonio turned his gaze away, knowing that Arthur's next statement would be true:

"Regardless of how much you want to protect her, _she will **always** gravitate towards him._"

**X.o.X**

_"She isn't just any girl, Francis. You cannot treat her like those… girls you pick up from just anywhere."_

_Francis sighed – he knew where his best friend was going, "Of course not, mon ami. No woman in their right mind has ever threatened to castrate me before, Toni…"_

_But he was surprised with Antonio's glare, "I have no room for jokes today, Francis," he started, "I'm serious. Alicia isn't just an ordinary crew member here…"_

**_Here it was. The truth._**_ "Oh?_"_ asked the blond, "Then who is she, exactly?"_

_Antonio hesitated, "… She is Aragon." _

_"Excuse me?" _

_"The Crown of Aragon," repeated the Spaniard, "She used to be the small Kingdom of Aragon until it merged with larger kingdoms like Castile… She isn't just a woman I keep to tend to my ship."_

_"She sounds important," the Frenchman wasn't going to let this go._

_"She is…" Antonio averted his gaze, pondering on the right words to use, "A big part of me."_

_A small smile played upon Francis' lips, "… So she is immortal?"_

_The Spaniard shrugged, "I do hope so,"_

_"Excellent," and the smirk on his face made Antonio's eyes narrow once more._

_"I swear, Francis," he started, his expression deadly serious._

_"You touch my hija and I swear that I will **personally** be the one to kill you."_

It _very _was interesting, especially now that Francis recalled it, that Antonio was so intent on keeping Alicia with him. She was a beautiful version of the Spaniard, of course, with Antonio personifying Spain, but she was different at the same time. She had his sharp features, and his strength and reflexes, but she had warmer brown eyes that longed for more. She spoke in the same, mirthful voice as Antonio did, but her smile was just absolutely stunning, like how the sun shines and dries up the rain. And it wasn't bad that she was well endowed, of course not. Her feisty and fiery character only made Francis crave to understand her more, possibly love her, even. Just the slightest idea of her even being in the same bed as him drove him up a wall.

But what circumstance led to this, now? With the very object of his affections standing right before him?

"Care for a stow-away, Capitan?"

Francis held up a hand, and his crew withdrew all their weapons and resumed to their posts, "_Mon cher_, I personally punish all stow-aways on my ship," he began, smirking to himself, "If you think you can handle my punishment then please be my guest~"

Alicia rolled her eyes, "Why do I feel like that sentence has double meanings?"

Francis laughed, "Oh, because it does," he added with a wink.

"Well," she began, stepping up so close to him that she had to look up to meet his gaze, "I didn't survive being shackled in that ship for nothing, Capitan Francis," she grinned at the smirk playing upon the blond's lips, "So…" she looked down, and then back up, eyeing him from head to toe, a glimmer of playful seduction shimmering in her honey-brown eyes, "Give me your best shot," she whispered.

"Well then, _mon cher_," the Frenchman began, extending out a hand, "What do you say to sharing a drink with me in my cabin?" the smirk on his lips never left.

"I have never been drunk off my ass before, Capitan," Alicia warned, raising an eyebrow.

Francis winked, "There is a first time for everything."

And for the first time since he met her, Alicia laughed. It was melodious. It was _stunning_. It was heart-warming. And she took the hand that the French Captain offered, "A drink sounds _excelente_, Capitan Francis."

After that, she found an arm snaking around her waist, and she was being brought into a large room of pure grandeur. A pile of cabinets and drawers lined up against the wall, and desk with unfinished papers stood before her as she entered, with a wine-rack evidently behind it. In the far right of the room, however, was a large, king-sized bed, with a polished wooden side-table on one side and a locked wooden chest in the other. She hadn't realized that Francis had released her and was now behind his own desk and searching through his stash.

"What would you like to drink?"

Alicia was snapped out of her stance, "Hmm…" she mused, "Why don't you surprise me?"

A small grin played upon Francis' lips as he took out a bottle and two glasses. He poured some wine on each before crossing the room and handing one to the young woman. He takes a sip and watches as she drinks cautiously, eyeing everything around her, "…How do you like it?"

"It is, as you say…" she stopped and attempted to prepare herself, "_Tres magnifique_," the words came out quite properly, as she had hoped, but her Hispanic accent was much too strong and evident in her speech, "Yes, I know, I should just stop trying."

"_Oui, mon cher,_" Francis chuckled, "Your French terribly sounds like Spanish…" he set down his glass to slip off his coat and placed it on top of his desk, together with the hat he had removed, "… But your Spanish is beautiful."

"Eh." Alicia seemed to be turning her gaze away, "_Los siento_, I will attempt not to kill your language now, but… Really?" she suddenly registered the latter part of his sentence, "My _Español_, I mean?"

"_Oui._"

Suddenly, Francis realized he was treading on dangerous territory: first, he was so close to her that he could feel her breath as he looked up at him. Second, he had wrapped his arms around her waist in his usual attempt to be intimate – and she was not responding negatively. And lastly, he was holding in his arms the woman who could castrate him and make him choke on his own genitals, and she just also seems to be the very woman that his own best friend would be willing to kill him for...

What better proof did he have that this woman was worth everything?

"Almost as beautiful as you."

And without thinking about it, Francis merely leaned down to press a light kiss upon her lips.

He was surprised to find her smiling into the kiss, before pulling away shortly, "Although, I would still love to hear your French, Capitan," she whispered to him, a smirk evident of mischief.

"Well then, _mon cher_," he whispered into her ear, leaning down to lick and subtly suck at her neck, making the young Spaniard moan lightly, "What would you have me say?"

"Wh-what are your most romantic words, Capitan?" Alicia asked, despite herself, biting her lower lip in an attempt to keep her voice in.

"_Tu es de plus beau qu'un, ma belle amour._"

He smirked at her furrowed eyebrows as he kissed her neck more, gently tugging at her tunic.

Her hands began to wrap around his neck as she moaned softly, and he felt her fingers in his hair, "Wh-what's that supposed to mean, Capitan?" color was now rising in her cheeks.

"It means," Francis whispered, his hands finding their way to the hem of her shirt, "_'You are more beautiful than the sun, my beautiful love.'_"

Alicia turned a vibrant shade of red, unable to contain herself any longer.

"Would you… Would you like me to take this off?"

**X.o.X**

Naturally, Antonio didn't like his lover's deception – Arthur had to be punished. He got it in the form of being screwed breathless into the mattress. Afterwards, however, Antonio had a bottle in of rum in one hand, and he was gently caressing the blond's hair with the other.

"I said that I was sorry," the blond muttered, his back towards him, adamant on his perspective.

"I know that you are sorry," whispered Antonio, continuing to touch his hair lightly.

Silence plagued them for a while before Arthur decided to break it, "… You should trust Alicia, you know."

"Oh, I trust her with my life," the Spaniard set the bottle of rum aside, "… I think we both know that it is Francis we should be concerned about, yes?"

"He isn't going to hurt her, Antonio," Arthur began, making the brunet stop caressing his hair, "Not in the way-"

"I don't want to hear it."

Arthur sighed and flipped over, green eyes meeting green. For a moment, they just stared at each other until the Spaniard turned away, "She… I… I can't protect her when she's there," Antonio started, grunting, "It shouldn't happen again, and I can't assure myself that it won't if she is there."

"Francis can't be _that_ useless, now, can he?" the Brit asked miserably, "I mean, I know the frog runs away from all his bloody fucking fights, but if it's this – if it's a woman now – he won't _really_ allow something bad to happen to her, right?" he looked up at Antonio, "Especially if she is who you say she is,"

"She is." Antonio replied shortly, throwing his legs off the bed and into his boots, "And there's only one way to find out."

And Arthur was left to sigh into the pillows when Antonio stormed out onto the deck, yelling for his crew to return to their posts and raise the anchor. He heard several thundering footsteps from the decks below, and several curses from Antonio for letting Alicia pass them by, without questioning where she was going. It wasn't really the softest echoes you can hear from the sea, but to Arthur, it was a lullaby enough as compared to loud canons and raging storms.

"You bastards! Get moving or I'll throw all your asses off-deck!"

Ah, music. Sweet music.

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I know, you're all still quite confused. I hope the chapter after this will... refresh you.


	3. Capitulo 2

**A/N**: I couldn't cut any of it, I'm sorry. I found this flashback extremely important, so here it is. I actually just finished writing it, and I didn't proofread, so I'm sorry for any run-ons, misspelled words and the like. Gracias por su tiempo, mi amigo. (Edited ending for Mighty Agamemnon, because I liked that idea more~ and yes, I do believe I've proofread now...)

* * *

Arthur was there when she was first taken aboard. Honestly? She looked like him – she looked very much like Antonio. She acted like him too: mirthful, playful, mischievous, but very simple, grounded even, feisty and strong – incredibly strong, for that matter. In fact, her presence shocked him for a while, because she looked so much like Antonio, especially since she had short hair back then, in free curls that graced her face, and sun-kissed skin that never got any darker. The only difference was her eyes – warm and brown. Almost like honey, but never tired. She left him gaping at her as she scurried off to do her Captain's bidding, until Antonio stood beside him and playfully kissed him on the cheek.

"What the-?!"

"She's going to break with you staring that hard at her," Antonio laughed, watching as the young woman scurried around the empty ship, exploring every nook and cranny, "Thank goodness Romano allowed her to be taken along~"

"You mean that Italy-kid you've taken in?" demanded Arthur, raising one massive eyebrow.

"The very same," Antonio watched from the upper deck as the young girl ran up and down the deck below, dancing around the mast and feeling the breeze in her hair, "I think Alicia will love the sea as much as I do, honestly…"

"Alicia?"

Antonio chuckled, "Ah, yes. _Lo siento._" Then, to the young woman, he shouted, "_Alicia! Donde estas? Ven aqui, por favor!_"

The young woman nodded and ran up the stairs to meet them, "Alicia, this is Capitan Arturo. Arthur Kirkland, of England," he started, making the young girl nod politely in acknowledgement, "Arthur…" the Brit raised his eyebrow higher, "This is Alicia… Alicia Aragon."

"Aragon?" the Englishman asked, slowly digesting the information, "You don't mean, of the _Crown_ of Aragon, do you?"

Antonio laughed and opened his arms, and Alicia jumped into them in a warm embrace, "The very same, _mi amor_," he started, "She's a part of me."

"Which 'part' of you?" Arthur asked warily. Antonio only winked. Rolling his eyes, Arthur shook his head as well, "You don't get many women on board ships, do you?"

"Not very," agreed Antonio, nuzzling Alicia's nose affectionately.

"Did you think this through?" Arthur seemed more concerned than Antonio anticipated, "Because you _know_ what could happen to her if you leave her alone with your crew…"

But this time, Antonio laughed, "Yes, yes," he jerked his head towards the Captain's Quarters, "Let us go in there – you know what to do, right, _hija_?"

"_Si, Capitan_," the young girl replied, bouncing off into the room before them and allowing both Antonio and Arthur to follow. Arthur was surprised that there was a shirt, pants, high boots and strips of bleached cloth on top of the king-sized bed.

"… What is the meaning of this?" the Brit demanded.

"I'm turning into Capitan's little brother!" And she seemed very enthusiastic about it.

"She is _what_?!" this time, Arthur addressed the question to the tall Spaniard, who only laughed at his concern.

"I'm dressing her up as a man," Antonio started, walking to where Alicia was and gently lifting her chin up with a finger, "She looks just like me, don't you think?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Yes, she does," he started sarcastically, "Especially if you take out those curves, and that ample bosom and her lush, pink lips." He blushed lightly at Antonio raising a curious eyebrow at his choice of words, "…You can also put in a bit of tolerance for liquor and her ability to wield a weapon-"

But he was cut short when two daggers were sent whizzing towards his direction, one on either side of his face. The first hit the door left ajar, and the other hit the mast in the middle of the deck outside with a loud thud.

Emerald eyes widened at the young girl's stance, and Antonio ruffled her hair affectionately, "You were saying, Arturo?" he teased.

Arthur shuddered, reminding himself never to get on the bad side of these Spaniards, "Well, she still needs to look like a man,"

Antonio, laughing, began to push him out of the room, "I will." He began, "But I'm not letting her strip down with you in the room with us."

**X.o.X**

Alicia – or, Anton, as the captain so wittingly renamed her (making Arthur roll his eyes and hit Antonio at the back of his head) – fit in perfectly with the rest of the crew. He was known as the right hand man, he did everything Capitan Antonio told him to do; he was fit to be called the consort, even though he was the Captain's brother. It didn't even surprise them anymore that he could take on seven to ten men single-handedly, with only knives and daggers (although, once, the aid of the Captain's battle-axe was necessary – damn those Dutch brats), and Arthur was indeed very impressed.

"I wonder if Alfred would grow up to be as strong as her," he mused as he watched Anton polish and sharpen Antonio's battle-axe across the room from him.

Antonio walked towards his _hijo_, ruffling his hair affectionately, "_Him_, for now," he corrected, chuckling, "And he will, I'm sure. Alfredo already seems very strong, Arturo."

The Brit could only nod, "Thanks," he muttered.

Anton raised the battle-axe all of a sudden, then handed it to the Captain beside him, "This should be sharp enough to murder ten thousand men,"

A smirk played upon Antonio's lips, "Sounds tempting,"

Anton only laughed, "Not without reason, Capitan."

"No, _mi hijo_, never," Antonio nodded in agreement.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Really?" he demanded, "That is the great conqueror's statement?"

"_Si_," Anton replied, his black hair swaying as he stood up, "Lust and power are always still but reasons."

"Oh?" A playful gleam appeared in Arthur's eyes, standing from the bed and approaching Anton, brushing bristles of soft curls away from his face, "What exactly does the _consort_ know of lust, eh?"

Brown eyes shot up to face Antonio, but the Spanish Captain shook his head lightly, a disapproving smile playing upon his lips. _Arthur was going to get it again_. Nodding in understanding, Anton chuckled, "With you aboard this vessel, Capitan Arturo, I believe I've learned just about enough about the true measures of _pleasure_," and to add to effect, he winked.

A faint blush spread across Arthur's face as he saw Antonio greatly in Anton, making the two Spaniards laugh out loud. The Englishman was about to open his mouth to retort when the door burst open to reveal a tall blond – around Antonio's height and build – grinning madly from ear-to-ear, with shoulder-length hair tied in a low ponytail behind him, donning colors of blue and red. Almost at once, Arthur grimaced.

"Frog."

"Toni, _mon ami_, it has been so long~" And the man purposefully ignored Arthur, walking over to give Antonio a hug. Arthur's jaw dropped, and immediately there were protests, leaving Anton to watch them curiously.

Hands flew up to his lips, however, when the new man made an attempt to kiss Antonio upon the lips. In defence, almost nonchalantly, the Spaniard forcefully brought up one knee and hit him square between the legs, "It's nice to see you too, Francis, _mi amigo_," he said with a grin, "It's good to know some things never change."

The blond doubled over, grasping the area between his legs and groaning in pain, "… You know… I tease, Toni… _mon ami_…"

"Dios mio!" Anton rushed forward, showing evidence of his true identity, and crouching down in concern, "_Señor_, are you all right?"

"Tch, serves him right," Arthur scoffed, passing them and heading towards the Spanish Captain, wrapping his arms around the Spaniard's neck, "… If I weren't here, though…"

"Jealous again?" Antonio swooped down to give him a soft kiss, "There's nothing here for that to happen,"

A smirk played upon Arthur's lips, "I can't always be sure now, can I?"

And even though Francis and Anton were in the room, all of a sudden, Antonio and Arthur had their lips crashing against each other, nearly devouring each other, with a series of hot, passionate kisses.

"_Mon dieu_," the Frenchman had put up his head off the floor and rolled his eyes, "They're like a pair of eels, eating each other's faces there."

Anton laughed and held out a hand, making the Frenchman look up at him, ocean blue eyes meeting honey brown ones, "… Need a hand, Capitan?"

Francis grinned and took the hand he offered, "_Merci,_"

**X.o.X**

"Pretty looking boy."

Antonio laughed, handing his best friend a glass of wine, before handing another to Arthur, "You really can't help but hit on anything that breathes, can you?"

Francis shrugged, "I'm fond of beautiful people," and his eyes wandered towards the Brit.

"Bugger off, Frog," Arthur gulped down his wine in one go, "This one's as straight as a log – no way to get through 'im."

The Spaniard's green eyes met Arthur's in a silent gesture o thanks. Francis sighed heavily, shaking his head, "Pity," he began, "He was very much my-"

"So, _amigo_," Antonio said loudly, startling the two blonds, "What brings you aboard my ship?"

Francis took a steady sip of wine, "I wish for an allegiance with the access and entry to the port in Aragon."

Antonio shrugged, "Done."

"What?" demanded Arthur, standing and making the other two turn to him, "You don't ask his motives – no questions – and you don't even think it through over a long period of time?"

Antonio blinked twice before he chuckled, "The only thing I ever question with Francis is his ability to become celibate."

"Non-existent, _mon ami,_" Francis smirked.

Arthur groaned, "I will never understand you both." He glared at the Frenchman, "Especially not you, Frog."

Francis laughed and waved a hand dismissively, stood up and handed the glass back to the Spanish Captain, "He never will," he said to his friend in a low voice, "But for now, I must take my leave. There is a lovely young woman in France that I wish to meet again…"

And even without waiting for either of the lovers reply, Francis walked out of the room, "_Au revoir._"

**X.o.X**

France was indeed a beautiful place, and its cities were stunning and marvellous. A lot of things about it reminded him of Spain, and of her hometown, and of the little boy he left to grow as both he and Antonio headed out to see. Naturally, Rouen wasn't anywhere near his particular favorites, but Anton was glad enough that he had gotten to get off the ship for a breather. It was a nice, beautiful day…

"-And you should have seen me! I covered your back, and those Dutch? Man! They were tougher than we thought, weren't they?"

The young Spaniard sighed miserably as they walked the almost empty streets. Nobody allowed him to leave the ship alone – ever. Capitan's orders. He groaned, _why does Capitan have to restrain me so?_

"Honestly, Marcelo, I really don't give a-"

The sailor who was supposed to be keeping watch over him suddenly gasped and ran the opposite direction, leaving him alone. All of a sudden, two men in uniforms grabbed him tightly by the shoulders.

"Who are you?" one of them demanded.

"_Q-que_?" honey-brown eyes widened, stuttering at what was happening.

"He's Spanish," the other one said in shock, "In alliance with the French! What are you doing here?!"

"W-wait!" Anton felt himself being dragged off by the two Englishmen, "I-I don't understand, what's-"

"Bloody hell, let him go."

And as though he was the saving grace, Arthur appeared in front of the young Spaniard, glaring at the two guards. They exchanged nervous glances before muttering their apologies and leaving. Then, he felt the blond grab him by the shoulders and drag him down a deserted alley, "W-wait, Capitan Arturo-"

"Antonio told you never to leave the ship, and of all days, why do you chose to go on shore –alone, no doubt- now?"

"But I'm not alone!" retorted the young Spaniard. Arthur stopped and turned to him with a pertinently raised eyebrow – so, this must be the feeling of getting scolded by one's mother, "O-one of the crew, Marcelo, he was with me and he got scared of your guards…"

Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples, "… And I have a burning today too…"

"What?"

All of a sudden, Anton felt himself getting dragged towards the center of the town, where a large crowd was beginning to fall in. Arthur dragged him into an inn, hustled up the second floor, and pushed him into a room.

"For once, _Alicia_," the Brit said the name, instead of the alias, making the young Spaniard gasp, "Do as you're told, and stay here. I will be back to escort you aboard the vessel of the Spanish Armada after I deal with this…"

And even without waiting for her to reply, Arthur slammed the door shut.

The young Spaniard, no longer playing the part of his alter-ego, sighed in exasperation and dropped down on the bed, "This must be the worst thing for a woman – to be treated below men," she muttered, "I understand almost as much as he does…"

But when she opened the windows before her, the sight that caught her attention was definitely something she didn't understand. A young woman was tied to a stake before a small population. She was beautiful, and Alicia could see the fervour in her eyes. Her hair was cut right above her shoulders, donning a look that was akin to a man's – much like Alicia. However, the very idea of her standing in front of the lot of people gave the young Spaniard the idea that something was about to happen that she wasn't supposed to see. In the midst of the crowd, he heard distinct yelling, and there he saw the French Captain who was on-board their ship, screaming in French together with a colourful string of curses.

Then, Alicia saw it: flames.

There were torches lit surrounding the area. Englishmen – based on their uniforms. Alicia didn't like the implications one bit. Just when she thought nothing could get worse, she saw Arthur step up to the stake to whisper a few words to the young woman. The beautiful French girl nodded, a small, sad smile playing upon her lips, before Arthur gave an order that continued to reverberate in Alicia's ears:

"Okay. Do it now."

And for the duration of the time she sat in her room, she covered her ears, even if it had long been gone. She could see the woman's body engulfed in the fire, set ablaze by the evils that Alicia had yet to understand. She could still hear the young girl's screams, even when they were barely there. She could see her body crisping into ashes, no matter what direction she chose to look. Even when Arthur was shaking her, she just could not bear to move. His green eyes were replaced by Antonio's own, and Alicia was still unable to move. That girl had a country she loved, people she loved, and most of all, people who loved her – and now all that was left of her was that in which she had come from. Why do people do those horrible things?

A stray tear fell from Alicia's eyes when the she realized that the thing she could not forget the most was the screaming blond Frenchman who demanded for the murder to stop, knowing that he was the one who loved her the most, and the name echoed repetitively in her ears for her to remember.

_"JEANNE!"_

**X.o.X**

Anton was in the pantry with the rest of the crew that night after they had finished reloading their resources, drinking to his heart's content. It barely hit him – he wished for stronger liquor than that – but he wasn't really willing to drop by the Netherlands for it.

"But seriously!" his loud, obnoxious, and supposed escort-turned-cowardly-dog slapped him lightly on the back, "How do you do it? Battling. Did Capitan train you?"

"Didn't have to," Anton replied, his lips pressed against his glass, "It's all innate, I just take after Capitan…" and he took a sip, still pondering over the day's events, _Jeanne…_

"Right, right."

Marcelo had dropped down on the bench beside him. He reeked of rum – and his brown, unkempt hair was not bound tonight, sending them everywhere on his face. He was quite young on board, barely past twenty-five, but he did nothing that any old man couldn't do. For Alicia, he was just another crew member. Of course, they came and went like everyone else.

_Like that woman for Capitan Francis._

"You aren't consort for nothing, aren't you?" Marcelo had turned his dark brown eyes at him, and Anton raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not," honestly, it was a pretty stupid question to ask, "I do believe Capitan knows who is worthy to stay beside him…"

"Oh?" Marcelo sneered, coming too close to Anton that he could smell the alcohol in his breath, "Then how do you feel whenever that _bastardo_, Arturo comes in here and basically claims Capitan for himself?"

To this, Anton raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to play dumb, Anton!" he nearly shouted, earning the glances of some of the other crew members around them, "Don't pretend you don't know that Arturo comes on board this ship just for a good fuck with Capitan!"

If possible, Anton's eyes went higher, "… I don't see how this is a problem?"

"What the-?!" Marcelo gaped at him, then glowered getting up from his seat, "You're a man's lover, and practically his _slave_, and you allow him to touch another man and-" But he stopped at Anton's chuckle, which only made him angrier.

"I was never Capitan Toni's lover, if that is what you are all thinking," Anton began, taking a gulp from his rum, "I am his consort, because I am from _la familia_. Capitan Toni and I have a different kind of bond ever since. And besides," he paused, remembering the blond that had mesmerizing blue eyes, who had shouted another woman's name only earlier that day, "… I've honestly had another man in mind."

Hearing that statement, Marcelo pulled Anton to his feet by the collar, not giving him any time to retort before sloppily crashing his lips against the consort's. Appalled, Anton pushed him away, wiping the saliva from his lips, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"What's your problem?!" Anton felt himself pushed up against the nearest wall, his hands pinned above him making him unable to pull out his dagger, "You asked for a man, you've got one now!" The young Spaniard could practically hear the lust dripping from the sailor's words.

Then, hands began to creep from his back to the inside of his pants, attempting to push into his ass, "W-wait! What the hell-?!"

"Don't worry~" Marcelo whispered into his ear in an attempt at seduction, grinding against his legs and making Anton feel the hardness between his legs, "You will feel good too." And as though on cue, two more members of the crew held onto the young consort's pinned hands, pressing him against the wall, "Now, let's see."

But when Marcelo unbuckled Anton's belt and felt for whatever bulge should be there, he found nothing but a surprise. A smirk played upon his lips and he said the only thing he could say at the moment, "… Now _this_ is **_very_** interesting."

**X.o.X**

Arthur slammed into the desk, panting heavily as Antonio continued to give him both pain and undeniable pleasure, "A-ah~ An-Antonio! I'm- I think I-"

"Me too," And Antonio bent over a gentle hand pushing Arthur's face to meet him in a kiss as he brought them both to climax.

As usual, the Spanish Captain was about to comment on his excellent love-making skills and his profound ability to give pleasure when, instead of giving Arthur his usual after-sex kiss, Antonio suddenly went rigid, and backed away from the work-desk where they had made love and stumbled into the bottom of the bed, grasping his chest, panting.

"Antonio?!" And Arthur followed him, not even bothering to button his undone shirt, "What's…?"

"I am threatened." Antonio said it almost breathlessly, green eyes staring into nothingness before they came up to meet Arthur's gaze, "A part of me is in grave danger."

"_Joder._" And both pairs of eyes widened as Antonio stumbled to gather his discarded clothing, picking up his battle-axe on his way out.

The two Captains ran straight down into the cellar where the sight that met them was unimaginable: Alicia had been stripped of her clothes –already revealed as a woman. Half the crew had bound her hands behind her, and hands were all over her, grabbing and touching whatever they could like she was a piece of meat. He saw that blood had been coming out from her ass, and was dripping down her legs. And the worst was that a man, the one Antonio had trusted to escort her everywhere, was right behind her, readying himself to enter her, despite her tears and obvious protests.

Blatantly angry, Antonio threw his coat at Arthur, who could do nothing but gape at the malicious scene before them. Then, in one swift movement, he grabbed Alicia from the table, tearing whatever bound her hands and tossed her in Arthur's direction, before his eyes narrowed dangerously in front of his own crew. Many of them backed away, and in all honesty, the Englishman had never seen him so angry in their past few thousand years. Arthur's eyes widened as he saw him lash out his anger, throwing his axe at anyone and everyone who even dared to move, sounds of flesh ripping and blood dripping filling the room, and the scent of the sea mixed in with the very air of death. The crew attempted to flee, tried to save their skins, but still none of them ever got past the door, because even though they begged Arthur for mercy, he remained still and allowed the Spaniard to mercilessly take all their lives. Arthur covered the young girl with Antonio's coat, as they fell upon the wooden floorboards, with Alicia unable to stand properly, and she practically buried herself in the Englishman's shoulders until she heard no more noises. And when she looked over her shoulder, all she saw were bloody bodies, many of them on top of each other, some of them unattached, and none of the crew moved – none of them could.

Antonio was breathing heavily when he heard a glass set down in the corner of the room – he was about to throw his aze in that direction, but then lowered it, finding a Dutch man, with blond hair that was unruly. His eyes turned to Antonio, eyebrows raised, but the Captain only glowered at him, before he turned to look at Alicia.

Tears fell from her eyes from all the horror she'd seen in one day. Arthur tried to whisper words of comfort in her ears, but she couldn't understand anything anymore, until she felt Antonio's arms wrap around her, as he carried her in his arms, underneath his coat.

"_Los siento, mi hija_. How could you ever forgive me? Never again, I will not let anything happen to you again."


	4. Capitulo 3

**A/N: **Er, again, this one has not been proofread and is exceptionally an effect of my past-midnight writings. I hope it is still as good as it sounded in my head, but of course, you already know a lot of the people here in this story. Gracias por su tiempo, mi amigos! Thank you for choosing to read this.

* * *

_A… dream?_

Arthur groggily woke up to the scent of rum. _Ah, right. Alicia took off with the Frog._ He cocked his head up to find his Spanish lover, a bottle of rum in one hand, and exasperatedly running his hand in his hair with the other, muttering in his native tongue. The Brit sighed, "You're really awake? You never wake up before me, Antonio."

The Spaniard forced a smile, turning to the Englishman, "I never slept."

Although still quite bleary-eyed, Arthur sat up, taking the bottle of rum from sword-calloused hands, "She isn't weak."

"But she is a woman," and the brunet brought his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms, "That is her very weakness – she is my conscience, my guilt, my innocence, and the very reason I know passion!" Antonio drew a deep breath, making Arthur slightly worried, "… Alicia should have stayed at home, where-"

"She would never grow and die of being stagnant?" Arthur demanded, making the Spaniard turn to him, "Well, I'll be damned that you'll let that happen now, wouldn't you?" but his emerald eyes softened as they met Antonio's gaze, "Try to think of her weakness as her strength… She may not know it yet, but being that part of you also has its perks, doesn't it?"

Antonio was silent for a moment as he merely stared at Arthur, "… She changed after that day."

Arthur sighed softly, gently ruffling Antonio's unruly hair, "I know," he began, "You saw how pale she went after seeing that burning, and then that happening to her the very same day…" he trailed off, attempting to shake off the memory, "… I would be surprised if the trauma didn't ignite anything in her."

"She lost her sun."

At first, Arthur thought he heard it wrong. But when he thought about it, he realized that Antonio really did mean his metaphor: Alicia had lost the warmth in her, the very passionate feeling that he used to share with Antonio, the glow in her eyes that made Arthur wonder just how alike the two could be. Sure, she had become feisty, and Arthur had to admit that it was madly entertaining, but that very defence mechanism made her honey-brown eyes cold, and Arthur could barely see his lover in her anymore. The sun, it had seemed, was always Antonio's general word for passion.

"Perhaps," began Arthur slowly, edging closer to the Spanish Captain, "She is in need of a reminder of what else may lie ahead aside from the darkness of the world."

**X.o.X**

Tired eyes half-opened, revealing honey-brown orbs. She ached in places that she's never ached in before, yet she was aware of what she did the previous night… Wait. **_What she did the previous night?_** Images of the French Captain, his soft, suave voice and the way his kisses tingled her skin made a blush creep upon Alicia's cheeks – she had really made love to that man last night. A gasp escaped Alicia's lips as she sat up, finding herself naked underneath lush, soft covers. She looked down at her body and she noticed several bite marks around the area of her shoulder and down to her chest. Then, she turned to the empty space beside her on bed and groaned inwardly, _I knew it._

She made a motion of getting out of bed when the door opened and she pulled the covers back up in surprise, turning away as though expecting an attack.

A soft chuckle at the door made her eyes meet ocean-blue ones, and the Frenchman shut the door behind him, a tray of pastries in his hands, "I didn't think you'd wake up so early, _mon cher_," he approached the bed and set the tray at the side table, "But it seems you are quite an early riser," he offered her a plate of bread and butter. Alicia eyed it and Francis looked taken aback, "_Mon cher_, this is breakfast."

The young Spaniard blinked twice, "… You made breakfast?"

Francis laughed, "Why, I always do," he started, setting the plate on the bed beside her before taking off his coat and wrapping it lovingly around her shoulders, "There, you might want it, _mon cher_,"

Alicia narrowed her eyes, "Where are my clothes?"

The Captain jerked his head towards his dresser, "Hanging inside," and he smiled at her warmly, almost making her insecurities melt away – but her experience in those situations taught her otherwise.

"…Why are you doing this?" the young Spaniard ask, wrapping the red-and-gold coat around her bare form.

Francis laughed again, sitting beside her and giving her a small peck on the cheek.

"_Mon cher_, have you forgotten what I said to you last night?"

_What he… said?_ Alicia racked her brains for the previous night's circumstances once more:

_"What now, Capitan?_" _Alicia asked, laying in the Frenchman's arms quite contentedly, "What shall happen in the morning? Will you throw me in your dungeons for stowing away?"_

_"Of course not, mon amour," Francis laughed a little and held her close, "I think I'll add you to my crew. How does Captain's Consort sound?" and he leaned down to place a sweet, chaste kiss upon her lips._

_"Mmm~" she kissed him back nervously, "Wh-what does your consort do, exactly?"_

_A smirk found its way upon Francis' lips, "Anything I want~" he began quite haughtily, "But don't worry, I will never let you do anything too undesirable, mon amour,"_

_To that, the young Spaniard laughed, "Of course you won't, Capitan," Alicia found her smirk as well, "I can still castrate you, and you know it," and to make Francis' heart skip a beat without knowing it, she winked._

_The Frenchman feigned hurt, "But you could never hurt your lover!" he exclaimed, almost laughing as he said it, "Where else will you get such amazing sex?"_

_"I **can**, I never said I 'will'…" However, much to his surprise, the young Spaniard's eyes looked up at him with wonder, "'Lovers', huh?" she looked as though the meaning of the word plagued her, "… That is a new word in my vocabulary, Capitan."_

_"Is it, now?" Francis didn't expect it – well, this girl was from Toni's ship, after all. Passion was something that went hand-in-hand with the Spanish Captain, and with that passionate love-making. But instead of commenting, he chuckled before brushing away loose strands of her hair, and pulling her closer to him, engaging in their shared warmth. _

_"Si, Capitan." She smiled at the unusual feeling in her chest, "I shall see you in the morning."_

Alicia blushed furiously as she remembered every minute detail. Beside her, the Frenchman laughed, "Welcome aboard, _ma belle,_ Alicia Aragon~" he planted a soft kiss on her forehead, "You are now the French Captain's Consort."

And he got up and left the tray of food for her, "It is a beautiful day, _mon cher_," he began, "Come and join me up on the deck once you're ready."

Honestly? Alicia felt like she would never be ready.

**X.o.X**

Finally retrieving her clothes from the closet, Alicia changed and emerged from the Captain's Quarters to white sails and clear blue skies and, for a moment, she realized that it must really be a new day – a different day. When she looked out of the deck, as far as her eyes could see, it was only ocean blue. And so were his eyes, twinkling when they found her, still donning his red coat on top of the rest of her ensemble. The crew gasped at her, but Francis waved a hand dismissively at them.

_"She is my new consort,"_ he said to the fleet in his impeccably romantic tongue, _"And I would like her to be welcome."_

"_Oui._" The crew nodded and returned to their posts.

At this, Francis came down from the upper deck, smiling at widely at her, "Feeling better?"

The young Spaniard avoided his gaze, "Y-yes. Thank you, Capitan."

"Please, call me Francis," he said nonchalantly, taking her hands in his and interlacing their fingers as they walked around the main deck, "You shall be free to do whatever you please around here, and I can assure you that you will always be safe~"

"I can take care of myself," and Alicia scowled, turning a little red, "However… What about you?

"Me?" Francis grinned in amusement, looking down at the serious expression etched about her face, "_Mon cher,_ I am a country – work never rests for me. I will be in the office later this afternoon and I may not come out. You are free to give me a hand, of course~" he said with a wink.

Alicia narrowed her eyes at him, "… Why do I feel like that statement has double meaning?"

"Ohonhonhon," Francis laughed, and whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "Because it does~"

The young Spaniard was about to retort about the Frenchman's impeccable ability to insert innuendos in every phrase when, much to her surprise, a small bird landed lightly upon her shoulder, carrying a small piece of parchment tied to its left foot.

"Pierre?" Francis asked. Alicia assumed he was referring to the bird. "What is it?" and he took the parchment off the little bird's foot, and allowed it to fly away. Unravelling the message, he frowned for a moment before he let out a string of French curses.

A worried look escaped Alicia's usually fiery demeanour, "… Is something wrong?"

"No," replied Francis, breaking into a smile as he stuffed the parchment into his pocket, looking at her with his twinkling eyes, "It's nothing to be worried about."

But when Alicia smelled the strong scent of cigarettes coming from the Captain's quarters, and the confused look upon the crew, and the first mate – the Staff Captain – looking at her with that sympathetic expression, she definitely realized that it was indeed something to be worried about. So, she knocked and slowly opened the wooden doors of the Francis' room and found him in front of his desk, reading glasses on and a frown evident on his face as he held a cigarette in one hand. However, once he looked up and saw Alicia entering his cabin, still clad in his bright red coat, a small smile began to play upon his lips, "Ah, _mon amour,_"

"There's something going on, isn't there?"

She didn't mean to sound so demanding, but her curiosity and the tone of her voice failed her. Realizing her concern, Francis sighed, took a breath from his cigarette before letting it out in small puff of smoke, "Come here, Alicia," and he put out his cigarette in the ash tray before him. The young Spaniard approached him slowly, and once she was in front of him, Francis took her hands and pulled her to sit on his lap, "I am torn for the moment."

"…Torn?" Alicia raised an eyebrow, her honey-colored eyes meeting his blue ones.

"_Oui,_" he whispered, his head leaning gently upon Alicia's arm, "My boss just sent me a telegram. I must return ashore to discuss business with allies of the French… And at the same time, I wish to personally send this letter," he gestured to the envelope on his desk, with elegantly written letters written at the front, "To _mon petite, mon Mathieu._"

"Mathieu?" she raised a pertinent eyebrow, "Your… little brother?"

Francis nodded, "In Canada," he added, chuckling, "Already taken from me, by one you know so well,"

Alicia released a soft, exasperated sigh, "Capitan Arturo," she looked at the letter on the desk, "W-well… How long would it take to get to North America?"

"A fair few days," replied the French Captain, wrapping an arm around her waist, sending shivers down her spine, "But it would take far too long, especially since I am needed on land in a few days. If I leave tomorrow, I'll be lucky to return after two weeks,"

"Two weeks?!" she didn't mean to sound too surprised or too disappointed, but it seemed that she had astounded the blond, "… I'm sorry, I was just-"

"No need to apologize, my dear," Francis gave her a soft peck on the skin, and the area he kissed burned her skin with a loving tingle, "Although now, you see why I am so torn…"

Alicia took another glance at the envelope and she nodded, "I… I can take it up north,"

For a moment, Francis just stared at her incredulously, then a soft chuckle escaped his lips, "Are you sure about that, _mon amour_?"

The Spaniard shrugged, "I suppose so," a faint blush tainted her cheeks, "I… I do whatever I can for you, right? Th-that's what a consort is supposed to do?"

Francis almost laughed, but he decided against it, "_Oui_," he began, "Something like that… Although," he continued, placing a gentle hand against her cheek and motioning for her to face him, "My consort usually means much more than that."

And Alicia noted that his kisses tasted strongly like either sweets or cigarettes, especially on days when he needed to ponder – much like this one. Either way, his taste was so enticing that she couldn't help but kiss back. Every single time, it seems.

**X.o.X**

She was used to whispers, to murmurs, and to people talking behind her back. It was common, it was normal. And for one thing, it seemed that everybody had something to say about things that they don't know about. Most of the time, Alicia would just ignore it – and she could, because she always knew more than they did. Always. However, as she made her way out of Francis' cabin after an afternoon nap, and finding that the dusk had settled in, she heard several of the same, usual whispers in her background, but this time, she felt highly uncomfortable, almost as if she wanted to know what they were all saying. It didn't help that they were all speaking in French, which she could barely make out. It wasn't until she was half-way across the deck that somebody decided to join her.

"Ignore them."

Alicia looked up and found the Staff Captain, a grimace on his face and a glare at the crew's direction quite evident. However, when he turned to her, his expression softened, and though his face showed the tedious amount of years, he still beamed the way a young man would. And to top it off, he spoke to her in clear, concise English, "Just let them say what they want, don't let them get to you,"

"You…" the young Spaniard looked at him, confused, "You speak English too, señor?"

The man nearly laughed his hat off, "Yes, my dear," he started, smiling brightly at him, "Actually, my mother's an Englishwoman, and my father is French… And I chose to stay in this side of the navy. My name is George du Merceau, and I come from Bordeaux."

Alicia nodded and smiled, "Alicia Aragon," she introduced herself, but George shook his head.

"I know," he whispered as he walked her towards the other end of the deck and up the stairs, "I might know more than I should, but I know enough to know just how wrong the men are about you."

Brows furrowed, Alicia halted and turned to him in worry, "Wrong about me in what sense?"

George released a soft sigh, his blond hair, hinted with grey streaks falling from the insides of his hat, "Well, they still believe that you are like those other… _people_ that the Captain brings aboard," he shook his head and chuckled, "Obviously, they haven't seen the difference yet."

Alicia was already about to ask, when the Staff Captain continued, "How he looks at you, how he treats you, and how he talks about you," a small smile played upon his lips, "I've been aboard this vessel since I was seventeen, and I have only seen the him look at someone that way once – ever since, just once," he looked out to the sea, as though to escape the memory, "… It was a sad thing that happened to him then."

"I know," George looked at her, but with her crestfallen expression, he realized that she was telling the truth more than he thought she would. However, she ignored his sympathy for him, and removed the coat of the French Captain, with every intention of returning it to the owner.

"Don't listen to the men," he started again, offering his arm to escort her up the steps, "You are unlike the other women or men that the Captain has brought into the ship for just a night's lustful fulfilment…" but Alicia turned away, almost disbelieving when George continued, "He has never gotten anyone else to be his consort before. Not even _her_."

With that, Alicia's heart lightened, and he took George's arm, nodding as she allowed him to bring her up the steps, "Thank you," she whispered to him.

George only chuckled when they got to the landing, "You are a sweet girl," he said with a smile, "You hide something, that is for sure, but there is no denying that you've got the warmth that's given by the sun that never sets." The Staff Captain jerked his head to the side and pointed at a hammock underneath a covered shed, with Francis sleeping soundly upon it, "I'm pretty sure he would like to see your face then."

And he left, leaving Alicia to stare at the handsome form of Francis Bonnefoy. She approached the hammock, and the only thing she could hear was his calm breathing, and the way the waves lashed against the sides of the ship. She bent over, close enough to his ears, before she whispered, "C-Capitan?"

Francis only grumbled.

"C-Capitan," she whispered again, "Capitan Francis? Wake up, please. You must move to the cabin."

Then, unexpectedly, she felt herself pulled upon the hammock, and into the Frenchman's arms, fitting in quite perfectly, "Hello, _mon cher_,"

Alicia squirmed, "C-Capitan!" she exclaimed, the hints of pink deciding to betray her once again, "I told you that you needed to go into your quarters if you wanted to sleep, not to drag me into the hammock too!"

But Francis only kept a tight hold on her even more, "Ah, but it's a cool night, Alicia," he whispered, "And look, there is no storm – the stars are absolutely breath-taking."

And the thought of the stars made Alicia stop, and look up at the night sky above them: indeed, it seemed like galaxies watched both of them from there. The ship had gone quiet, and the men probably to bed, but she lay there with the Frenchman, and his strong scent of roses, and that gorgeous smile upon his face.

"It's only two weeks, Alicia."

As he said it, Alicia immediately turned away, a scowl on her face, "… I know."

Francis tried to move towards her, but she frowned deeper, "Come now, _mon cher_," he whispered, a smirk beginning to play upon his lips, "Will you miss me that much?"

"As if." And as though to prove her point, she shoved the red coat into Francis' arms, still not facing him, "You might need that – they have to identify the Captain, don't they?" With that, Francis laughed, making Alicia turn to him, flushing, "What the hell is so funny?!"

"You are," and Francis gave her a small peck on the cheek, then a soft, chaste kiss, "Because you don't know when to admit what you're feeling." And as though to prove his point, he reached down to take her hand, and entwine their fingers slowly, "… You shouldn't worry, Alicia."

"And why not?" she would say that it's neither confirming nor denying her worry, but it was evident that she was indeed in some form of woe.

"Because," Francis started, looking up at the night sky above them, "As constant as the stars above, you should always know that you are loved," then, his ocean-blue eyes turned to her, full of that emotion that she has yet to decipher, "And that will come back to you, _mon cher_. That love will always come back."

The scowl on her face was replaced by a small, unintentional pout, "Will it just be me, Capitan?"

The Frenchman kissed her lightly on the nose, "Yes, _ma belle_," he whispered, "I will come back just for you after two weeks, and we shall see each other back in France,"

She couldn't help the doubt that was rising in her chest. But when Francis took her into his arms and whispered his last words for the night, and she could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he held her, she realized that she wasn't the only one feeling the same way. She prayed to every god she knew that he couldn't hear her heart skipping a beat, or her breath hitching, or her soft, mindless clamours of him being stupidly romantic – even though she loved every bit of it. She wished that days would be sunnier, and the nights were that way, in his arms, and breathing the same air he took in, and feeling the warmth that they could exchange. But sleep just had to take her away, and her only consolation was the fact that Francis' voice was the last thing she heard:

_"Bonne nuit, mon amour._"


	5. Capitulo 4

**A/N:** This one was shorter than I expected... But ah well. I think I might enjoy the one right next to this. Hihi. I'm looking for the next place to put in the next SpUk scene~ Gracias por su tiempo, mi amigo! I really appreciate you taking time to read this~

* * *

"_It is only two weeks, mon cher. I will be back."_

Alicia opened her eyes to see white sails and clear blue skies, and a soft sigh escaped her lips: it was the third time she had fallen asleep on that hammock, and each time it reminded her of Francis more. It seemed like only yesterday that she lay there, in the Frenchman's arms, laying beneath the stars. He had whispered such loving words to her, drawing wonder from her eyes, saying sweet-nothings she'd never heard before. However, in the morning, she found a letter in her arms, smitten with his elegant penmanship, and his coat covering her and keeping her warm. She'd never taken it off since.

"_Mademoiselle, _Alicia."

The young Spaniard turned to the French Naval Staff Captain and raised an eyebrow. He gave a respectful nod, "We're here."

Alicia nodded, "Understood," she started, "Get this ship anchored – I'm going ashore."

**X.o.X**

Mathieu happily fixed his hair and adjusted his glasses before funning out and dashing to the docks: he'd know those striped red, white and blue flags anywhere. And no matter what the Englishman would say, he would always see Francis just for the sake of it. How surprised he'd be when Francis seen how much he'd grown! The North American grinned wider, seeing the familiar face of the First Mate.

"Ah, _Monsieur_," Mathieu called out to the blond, who was a few meters from him, "Is Francis coming ashore?"

"Er," the Staff Captain stuttered, looking up at the ship, "Well… He isn't really… here."

"Eh?" Mathieu came to a halt in front of the ship's port-side gate, looking up at the main deck and seeing his former brother's blatantly flamboyant red coat, accented with glistening gold, "Th-then… Who is _that_?"

Much to his surprise, the figure jumped off the deck, rolled as it got down with such parkour, and landed on its knees before standing and raising a curious eyebrow at the Canadian. Mathieu's eyes widened: it was a _woman_, with sharp, Hispanic features, beautiful black curls tied in a low ponytail behind her with only a few stray strands gracing her face, and she had such warm, honey-brown eyes that met his amethyst gaze. She breathed out, a small puff of moist escaping her lips as she did, "You… You aren't Mateo, are you?"

"I _am _Matthew," the blond replied, staring at her for a moment before turning to George, the Staff Captain, "Who is she?"

"That," George began, clearing his throat and giving a respectful bow, "Is the Captain's Consort, Alicia Aragon."

Mathieu noticed a smirk playing upon the consort's lips at the surprised look upon his face, "_… Mon Dieu,_" the young blond muttered, appalled, "However did you get _papa_ to settle down?"

Alicia only laughed: quite melodiously. She decided that she liked Mathieu.

**X.o.X**

"It was never my intention, honestly. I was only being playful and I've never had that much fun in my entire life. But, well, I suppose you know what happened after that…"

Mathieu laughed in understanding, handing her a cup of coffee, "You've grown to love him, of course,"

Alicia didn't reply, but took a sip from the cup handed to her. For a while, she seemed to be scrutinizing the taste of the coffee she was given, until she looked at Mathieu with her sharp eyes, but in a light expression that seemed so motherly and affectionate.

"You look _so_ much like him."

"Ehe." Mathieu laughed nervously, sitting on the sofa beside the young Spaniard, "I don't know how to respond to that, actually… I'm not really sure if it's a compliment."

"Oh, _mi hijo_, it is," Alicia smiled warmly at him, showing that a faint memory of the Frenchman was tugging at the corners of her mind, "I think you know very well that Francis is _muy guapo_, very handsome," she translated.

A hint of pink appeared in Mathieu's cheeks, "Th-thank you,"

For a long time, Alicia just stared at him, making him quite uncomfortable. However, a grin began to play upon her lips, "It's starting to make me want children~" she sighed and leaned back into the sofa, making a blush creep upon the Canadian's cheeks, "Ah, I miss Lovino now~" she whined.

At that, Mathieu raised an eyebrow, "… Lovino?"

"South Italy – Italy _Romano_." Alicia replied shortly, taking a huge, unexpected gulp of coffee. Mathieu was quite shocked – she chugged it down like alcohol, "Sweet child, excellent cook, terrific dancer…" she sighed dreamily, a smile upon her lips, "The most darling child I have ever taken care of~"

"Um…" Mathieu didn't want to pick on her opinion, especially after knowing from Arthur that the young Italian ran a foul mouth, "I… I thought he was in Spain's house?"

"We were."

It was a short, simple reply, but the Canadian understood the underlying implications of how she had left. He could note a tinge of regret in her voice, and a thin sheen of liquid began to grace her eyes, telling him that she was quite close to tears in her memories. Not wanting to deal with a crying Spaniard – one that sleeps with Francis nonetheless – Mathieu coughed to get her attention.

"So, Alicia?" honey-colored eyes turned to him, "Wh-why are you here, then?"

"Ah~" the young woman reached into the inner pocket of the coat she was wearing, slightly worrying the young blond. Alicia pulled out an elegant, rose-colored envelope, with the name "Mathieu Williams" written impeccably in front, "Capitan wanted me to give you this," and she handed the letter to him.

Brows furrowed, Mathieu took it with one shaky hand, "Why would-?" but he cut himself off at mid-speech upon hearing the faint ringing of his telephone. He stood up and bowed politely, "Kindly excuse me…" And he ran off to answer the call.

Alicia had half-finished her coffee when she could hear frustrated murmurs in the hallway. Setting her coffee cup down on the table before her, she followed the sound of the young blond's voice and found him rapidly talking over the phone in broken fragments, "I don't… No, of course not-… Al, listen to what you're… But you're not-…"

_This doesn't look so good,_ she watched Mathieu for a while, admiring his patience as the argument seemed to go on for a few minutes, until, much to her surprise, the young Canadian raised his voice at whoever he was talking to you, "_I don't __**care**__ what you think right now! I don't know about you, but __**I **__believe that Arthur is a pretty damn good parent!_"

And with that statement, he dropped the phone, before groaning and burying his face in his hands. For a moment, he just attempted to regain his breath, then he spoke, ever so quietly, "I don't understand," he began, "How he could be given everything – _absolutely everything_," he emphasized the phrase as though it shot an arrow through his heart, "And still think that he isn't being given enough freedom… What _more_ does he want?"

Alicia shrugged, and approached the young Canadian, "Sometimes," she whispered, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him turn his vivid violet eyes to her, "We find ourselves shackled by believing that people place us in certain situations that render us immobile…" she paused to brush away an unruly curl from Mathieu's face, "… But sometimes, what shackles us more is the belief that we are free, yet in reality, what we hold on to are just more things that stop us from seeing what is beyond the horizon where the sun sets."

And when a warm smile graced her lips, one Mathieu has never seen before, he couldn't help but throw his arms around her, the feeling of a motherly embrace swelling in his chest. He knew that he was shackled too, tied to where he was, but he never thought of it until she mentioned it. And even if he could do something, he wouldn't. All because he knew it would break Arthur's heart to see him leave – just like how it breaks his heart to see everyone else leave. How invisible he was to the world, only second best.

But it seemed that Alicia knew just what to do, and gently gave a soft pat upon his head, "Hush, _mi hijo_," she whispered to the whimpering North American in her arms, knowing his tears were threatening to fall, "Things will be okay. Perhaps not now, perhaps not in a few years – but believe that they will be." She placed a gentle kiss upon the young blond's head, just as she recalled she did with Lovino whenever Spain left, "The sun always shines. And it will. Eventually."

And through those things, it seemed, Mathieu held onto that promise of hers.

**X.o.X**

She was uncomfortable leaving Mathieu so early, but he had told her that she needed to sail back to meet his _papa_ in France. That being said, she promised the young boy a visit or a chance to visit her, whichever would come first. However, what met her when she returned to the ship was a mass of soldiers and a familiar-looking ship right next to the French Navy's – which she was now holding dear. Realizing what could be happening, she climbed up the ladder on the port side and hopped on deck where almost all of the crew was gathered.

"I'll ask you again," a voice started, low and steady, "Where is your captain? Where the fuck is Francis? He _knows_ that this is no longer his land!"

"He's not here, Capitan Arturo."

The crew gasped, and Arthur's eyes widened. The men pushed, pulled and tugged at each other to make way for her, and green eyes attempted to comprehend the fact that she was wearing a bright red coat, "Wh-why are you wearing _that_, Alicia?"

"I'm in charge here right now," replied the young Spaniard, "The Captain's Consort-" Arthur gasped here, "-and I came to only deliver a letter, I don't think that was of any harm, yes?"

From the deck, she could see the Brit clenching his fists, "… What did you just get yourself into, Alicia?"

Alicia did not reply. Instead she marched up to the upper deck to meet him, "Capitan," she said in a low voice, only low enough for just Arthur to hear, "I… I don't want any trouble here, please."

"I…" Her eyes looked up at him, pleading. And after a few moments, Arthur sighed, "Take me into your quarters. We need to talk." He turned to his men – those surrounding Alicia's crew, "Return to the ship. I will be with you shortly."

Arthur was also quite appalled to find himself being taken into the Captain's chambers, with the young Spaniard closing the wooden doors firmly behind them, "Alicia, dear," he began, rubbing his temples as he leaned against the nearest wall, "I asked to be brought to _your_ quarters."

She turned to him with an eyebrow raised, "I sleep here."

"With… Francis?" the Englishman didn't seem so pleased, but his green eyes glimmered with a certain note of concern.

"Not in the last few days, though, since he's been gone," replied Alicia, leaning upon the desk and facing Arthur, "I've been sleeping on the hammock. I find it hard to sleep alone in that bed,"

Arthur cringed as he took one look at the king-sized bed at one side of the room, "I reckon he did too."

Alicia's eyebrow shot up higher, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

The Englishman took a sniff, "Well… Perhaps not as of late, it doesn't smell like sex as much as it used to." Alicia's eyes widened, but this time, Arthur raised a curious eyebrow at her, "Alicia, my dear," he began as smoothly as he could, "… What _exactly_ do you know about that blasted frog, anyway?"

"I…" she stammered – _what __**did**__ she know? _It shouldn't be a difficult question to answer, right? "I suppose I'm still learning more," she explained, attempting to find the right words to describe everything, "I've… I've got time to find out, right?"

A small sigh escaped Arthur's lips, "Did he call you his lover?"

Alicia's heart missed a beat, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"And he called you some pet-name?" added the Brit, seeing the worry and confusion painting the young girl's face, "Beautiful? Or _mon cher_? Or, something more complicated and heart-tugging than that?"

_More beautiful than the sun…_

She remembered what he had said. And now, questions were ringing inside her head – why does Arthur know this? What exactly did she not know?

The questions evident on her face, Arthur released an exasperated sigh and took of his hat, offering a hand to the young girl. She didn't like the implications of it all, but her curiosity was more aroused than anything else.

"My dear, let's go and sit. That frog has tea around here somewhere. We have much to talk about."

**X.o.X**

Spain was a constant place for Francis to be in, even as a child, especially with Antonio being his best and most trusted friend. The Spaniard had a vast hacienda, and his home was large, with many windows made of _capiz_, and the warm familiarity of the place made Francis feel quite at home. So, he waltzed up the front steps and knocked politely, and it was a teenaged girl – looking very much like Antonio, so to an extent looking like Alicia – with dark hair and black eyes who opened the window.

"_Po?_" she asked, blinking up at him.

"Ah, Maria," a small smile played upon the blond's lips, "Is papa home?"

The girl shook her head, "I'm afraid not," she said, but she pulled open the door, "But do come in. I'm sure _kuya_ Romano knows that you were coming,"

And Maria led him to the den, where the room seemed to be set for visitors, and the walls were adorned by either canvasses of picturesque paintings, or shelves filled with books, parchments, maps and several varying photographs.

"I'll let _kuya_ Romano know you're here, _kuya_ Francis," and with a gentle curtsy, Maria turned and left.

Francis looked at the photographs lined up on a low shelf – Antonio's colonies were a tight family. He could see a young woman who looked exactly like the Spaniard, except her black hair and brown eyes, holding Romano's hand in one frame. In another, she held a sword, with Antonio and Miguel. Some of the photographs were even their Christmases, their birthday celebrations, and even pictures of ordinary picnics. And as the Frenchman walked farther down the shelf, he began to notice that the children were getting younger, and the presence of a teenaged girl taking care of them appeared: sharp, Hispanic features and messy jet-black hair, with the softest, honey brown eyes. She cradled the sleeping Maria and Miguel in her arms in one photograph, while she and Romano were sleeping soundly on the sofa in another. Francis' heart skipped a beat: _it was __**Alicia**_. However, that wasn't the only picture that caught his attention, for near the end of the shelf, he noticed a very familiar photograph, quite old, but well kept, and he took it off the shelf and stared at it for a long time.

"Anything wrong, wine-bastard?"

A sigh escaped Francis' lips: oh yes, that loud, foul mouth that would give Arthur a run for his money was definitely Romano.

The older of the Italian twins raised an eyebrow, donning a pink suit that was almost adorably perfect if not for his colourful vocabulary, "I don't like the way you stare at Alicia's pictures like that," he growled, "You better not be fantasizing about her and-"

"Why do you have this picture?"

And Francis held up the small photograph of a beautiful little girl, clad in soft ruffles and a sky-blue dress. She was laughing in her photograph, and her golden-blond curls looked as soft as cotton. Romano blinked a couple of times before he sighed and rubbed his temple, "I knew that someone would eventually ask that."

The Frenchman raised an eyebrow, "Oh?" he demanded, stepping up to the younger man, "Then you will answer me?"

Romano hesitated, but nodded, "Antonio never really told me not to tell anyone," he began, looking at the girl in the photograph, "Except, he warned me never to tell Arthur because he knew he'd get jealous – although I never understood why because Alicia was there to counteract that from happening."

"I don't understand," started Francis, showing the photograph of the girl, "What does Alicia have to do with the person in this picture?"

The young Italian's eyes narrowed, "Exactly _how much_ do you know about Alicia?"

"She is Aragon, is she not?" Francis replied, quite sure of himself, "He is a big part of Toni."

"… Yes…?" Romano raised an eyebrow, "But she isn't a big part of Antonio because she is Aragon. She is much more than that." He took the picture from Francis' hands and stared at it for a long time before he continued, "To brave the high seas, Antonio had to let go of a lot of things that he felt and carried – his guilt, his innocence, sometimes, his very conscience. The part of him that tends greatly to people and takes care of them – that very passion – and everything he loved before he went out to sail… From all of those, Alicia came from."

"So…" Francis attempted to put the pieces together, "That would explain…"

"Her strength, her will and the way she cares about people," Romano handed the photograph back to Francis, "All of the things that Antonio had to leave behind – all of his 'baggage'. Alicia manifests all of them."

Francis sighed exasperatedly, "I still don't understand how Alicia is related to this picture."

"Isn't it obvious?" Romano's statement made Francis' eyes widen:

"The person in that photo is Antonio's first love – hence, also Alicia's first love." Romano turned away, slightly bothered, "And I think you, of all people, would know exactly how deeply rooted a first love is."

The blond was unable to speak for a long time. Then, once he found his voice, he stammered, still quite at a loss for words.

"… Romano… _**I**_ am the person in this picture."

And the framed photograph came crashing against the floor, making a worried Maria and Miguel rush anxiously into the room.

* * *

**A/N:** If you haven't figured out yet, Maria is Philippines, and Miguel is Mexico.


	6. Capitulo 5

**A/N: **So... Who is up for a little bit of light Frain? ;) I've got mentions of FrUk here, for some fans, and of course the ever-popular Jeanne. Do enjoy, my dears. Gracias por su tiempo~

* * *

Alicia's hands began to shake as she took a pot of tea and began to pour some, quite unevenly, that she began to spill tea almost everywhere. Upon seeing this, Arthur got up from his seat and placed a gentle hand upon hers, "Allow me to do that, my dear," and he pried the teapot and tea cup from her hands. The young Spaniard moved to the side of the bed she shared with the French Captain and only watched as the English Captain poured tea for both of them. She really didn't know what to expect or even how to think. She didn't know what this feeling was, and she didn't know what much to do about it. Quite familiar with this reaction of hers – and knowing fully well where she got it – Arthur sighed and handed her the tea, "Here, it will help." But she only took it in her hands, staring at the light-coloured drink.

"Alicia."

The young girl turned her amber eyes towards him, monotonous but loud. Arthur tried to reach into the very depths of his conscience, wondering if what he was going to do was really necessary and right, but he shook his head and told himself that it was the best – especially for Alicia, "There's something you need to know about Francis."

For a long time, she didn't say anything. Then, finally, she found her voice, soft and wavering, "… He sleeps with people."

Arthur blinked once, twice, before he choked out, "Y-you know?"

The dark-haired girl shrugged, "I could make it out from your conversations with Capitan Toni. That… And the Staff Captain talked to me," Alicia replied, avoiding his gaze, "… Wh-why does he do that?"

The Brit took a sip of tea, before he sighed and set the cup down on the nearest surface, before sitting on the bedside beside the young girl, "Listen," he started, turning to her the way a father would, "Francis is… highly amorous. And he takes promiscuity to a whole different level. Practically invented it, I have enough reason to believe… And I know that he may stir up some kind of unusual emotions that you have not been accustomed to, but neither Antonio nor I would like you to get hurt by his usual games, so-"

"Games?" she looked even more confused as ever, "What are you talking about, Capitan Arturo?"

"Did he really raise you this naively?" demanded Arthur, but he shook his head and took a deep breath, "Alicia." He said her name slowly and certainly, "You have to know that everything Francis does is just for the _pleasure_ of it. Good wine. Even better food. Beautiful people. And a nice, hard fuck."

"You're wrong," Alicia started, not knowing why she was defending the Frenchman, "It isn't all just about-"

"Sex?" Arthur laughed hollowly, "Really, now?" she found an expression on him that she'd never seen before – it was smug and all-knowing, and it sent shivers down her spine, "Then tell me honestly that on your _very_ first day on this ship, he didn't put you in this very bed and did you right then and there."

Again, Alicia remained quiet. This time, knowing he had gone quite far, Arthur removed his cap, allowing it to fall unceremoniously on the floor, before he rubbed his temples, "I'm sorry," the Brit started, "I shouldn't even… I'm not supposed to…"

But his speech was cut off by Alicia's question:

"How do you know?"

Emerald eyes widened, and for a long time, they just held their gaze. Alicia's expression was unreadable, but Arthur could sense her internal regression – this wasn't going to be pretty. He began to recall Antonio's initial descriptions of the young girl, and the fact that he could see five sheathes of daggers and varying sizes of knives on top of her pants… He nearly cringed at the thought of the young Spaniard keeping more than those five.

"Alicia, I would like to answer you honestly," Arthur began slowly, creeping upon his words, "… But I do not wish to astound you even more than absolutely necessary today."

But Alicia shook her head, "Capitan, I lived through getting raped and violated-" Arthur's heart missed a beat here, especially since she'd never talked about it vocally before, "- and I've fought wars alongside Capitan Toni… I think words should have less of an effect on me, don't you think?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Arthur brushed away bristles of her jet-black hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ears, "You have no idea how much more powerful words are compared to that." Alicia was about to ask when the Englishman continued, "Words have moved me to do things that I've never done before – but, of course, none of which I have ever regretted…"

Alicia only stared at him, but Arthur chuckled and continued, "Well, dear, if you must know, Francis and I were together once as well-" the young Spaniard gasped here, "-and I know that you think I've hated him, but before I've been in this hundred years of war with him, we really did begin to fool around a bit, and all that romantic nonsense…" He began to look nostalgic, and the young girl could only stare, "It was sex for a long time – consensual, of course – until he started to call me all those blasted pet names, and he used that blasted accent against me, and I almost thought my heart would burst because of all of it…"

Just then, Alicia saw Arthur clench his fists, and beads of sweat began to form upon his forehead, "And then he told me that he had feelings for me…" honey-brown eyes widened, "… But then again, I couldn't believe him. Nobody can. Even if it took me a great deal of time just to accept that. I mean, we were just fooling around – it wasn't even supposed to be taken in that certain way…" Arthur chuckled at the memory again, "… So I slept with a different man one night, and he was the one who got angry. He harked about feelings, and love, and pain, but honestly? We were both just doing what we could so as not to be sleeping alone at night."

His eyes turned back to Alicia, who gulped, "He's a damn bastard, could tell you that much, because the drunken bastard admitted right after it that he lied." Arthur started, shaking his head and laughing lightly, "But I've had my fair share of falling in love, and I guess even he has his as well…"

"…" Alicia tried to find the right words to continue, which wouldn't give the Brit a heart attack. However, she pressed herself for time and decided upon the most blunt, "… You mean Jeanne, don't you?"

With that Arthur froze. For a moment, Alicia thought that he would be in catatonic state, but he recomposed himself and drew a deep breath, "About that, actually," he looked at the young Spaniard and just stared at her, "… He has never brought her up to you, has he?" Black locks bounced as Alicia shook her head. The Englishman sighed again, "At the rate he's going, you know, he will probably never forget about her…"

"What?" her question became hoarse and breathless.

"J-Jeanne," it seemed that he struggled, even by just the mere mention of her name, "… I've never done something that horrible in my entire life, honestly. I never meant to cause him that kind of pain – ever." Alicia could see his crestfallen expression and practically hear the despair dripping from Arthur's voice, "It would actually be a miracle if someone else would take her place in his heart, but from what I can see, that woman seemed to be Francis' first love…" his eyes met hers and his gaze became sympathetic, "And you know what they say about first love, right?"

Alicia knew she would regret hearing it, but she shook her head anyway.

"A first love lasts forever."

**X.o.X**

George was anxious. They hadn't heard a thing from the insides of the Captain's quarters and his Captain's current lover was inside. With the man who leads their enemy. Alone. With no signs of any form of a struggle whatsoever.

It wasn't until there was a crash on the floor that he decided that he should just burst into the room and demand for the Englishman to leave their ship immediately. However, what he was met with was the Captain's lover, with several shards of broken glass at her feet, and her bleeding hands in the hands of the English Navy's Captain, Arthur Kirkland.

"…_Mademoiselle_?" he asked, earning the attention of the other two occupants of the room. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but George chose to ignore it, "What happened? Is there anything I can do?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "She just grasped a teacup wrong, she isn't going to die." He pulled a piece of cloth from within his coat and wrapped it neatly and tightly around the young girl's palm, "There, should stop the bleeding for the meantime."

"G-gracias," she mumbled, sitting back down on the bed, "It is okay, George," she said to the First Mate, "I'm all right. Capitan Arturo is quite a good guest." But the Staff Captain didn't seem too convinced.

"Regardless," he started, unsheathing his sword, and making Alicia's honey-coloured eyes widen, "I have been ordered to keep you safe from any form of danger or harm, _mademoiselle_… Which is why I would like to request for Captain Kirkland to leave the vessel immediately…"

"Watch you you're talking to." Arthur suddenly sneered, "You forget who stands in France-"

"My orders do not come from you, Captain Kirkland."

Almost at once, Arthur had unsheathed his sword to point it at the Frenchman. However, almost just as quick – much to the two men's surprise, Alicia had pulled one dagger from her side to push down the sword, and pulled another to point at the Englishman.

Emerald eyes widened, and Alicia breathed heavily, glaring at him and still pointing her dagger, "This is _my_ crew now, Capitan Arturo," she began, "And I do not wish my crew any harm."

For a long time, Arthur just stared at her. Then, he withdrew his sword and shook his head, "I have to talk to Antonio about his loyalties," he muttered, chuckling. He turned to George, "Where is your next port of destination?"

George could only look at the pair of them. Alicia re-sheathed her weapons and turned to the Frenchman, "Answer him."

"Ah yes." The First Mate cleared his throat, "Cherbourg, _mademoiselle_,"

"Good," Arthur said, "Just along the English Channel." He turned to Alicia, "Come aboard my ship, I'll bring you there myself. We have much to discuss,"

George's eyes widened, "You can't-"

But Alicia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook her head, "It's all right," her amber eyes turned to Arthur, "All right, Capitan. I'll come aboard."

The Frenchman was at a loss for what to do, "_M-mais, mademoiselle!_" he called out as Alicia and Arthur were heading out the door, "C-Captain Kirkland-"

"It is okay, George." She even smiled as she said it, worrying the Frenchman more. However, it was her orders against his will, and all he was ever taught was to follow orders:

"Just keep the crew safe and steer for the next port. I will surely meet you there."

**X.o.X**

The river was long and mellifluous – just as he had been told. There were lush greens that surrounded it, and the people who came with him were quiet. It wasn't much, really. But it was beautiful. It was certainly a sight to behold. And when he drew a deep breath, the smell of fresh water tingled his nostrils: yes. This would be something bigger one day. He could sense it, he could feel it in his bones. It was his own. And even as he just stood there, he could hear the land calling out to him, calling his name, knowing that he was there. That it's father was there.

"_Spain! Spain!"_

Yes. It was a sign. It was a sign that this sight was his, and that these valleys would be more than just-

"SPAIN!"

… He didn't expect the valley to call out to him that loud.

The Spaniard turned around to find a young girl, clad in a sky-blue dress, with her ocean-blue eyes disappearing in her smile and her shoulder-length blond hair flowing gracefully in the wind, "There you are, Spain~" she started, panting as she arrived at his side, "I've been calling you!"

"O-oh," the brunet scratched the back of his head, a faint blush appearing in his cheeks, "So that was _you_."

"Eh?" The young girl looked at him incredulously before laughing, her voice like music to his ears, "Well, who else did you think it was?"

"N-nobody," Spain shook his head, "B-but, I haven't really seen you in a while, France, so…"

But France merely beamed at him, happiness practically emanating from her very being, "Come," she started, taking one of his hands into her own, "I want to show you something."

His face turned bright red at the touch of her hands, but he nodded firmly and allowed himself to be taken away by her.

She pulled him through the grass, and farther down the valley, close enough to the river that he could practically hear it flowing. She was beautiful – and that was all he could think about. All he knew was the fact that she was the girl next door, someone like him, who personifies a different set of people. And the way she smiled made him think so gloriously about the sun – and how she was very much brighter than it. She was mesmerizing, captivating. Even the way she says his name so naturally sent his heart beating a mile a minute.

"We're here!" she squealed and giggled happily.

Spain looked around – there wasn't really much of a difference. "Uh," he started, feeling that ache in his chest as she looked up at him with that bright smile, "… Where exactly is here? And…" he turned to her, "_What_ exactly is here?"

France pulled onto his hand some more, then knelt down at a small patch of grass. It was only then that he saw it: a small, white flower that has yet to bloom.

Green eyes widened, "… Is that-?"

But the young girl shook her head, "No," she whispered, letting go of his hand and caressing the bud gently in her hands, "This isn't like us. This is only a region – a part of us…" she looked up and met his gaze, "A part of _you_, Spain."

Spain looked confused and knelt down beside her, "H-how?" he started, looking back down at the flower bud, "How do you know?"

"See here?" she gestured to the unopened petals, "You see how they turn pink here near the stem? And do you see how much lighter a kind of green it is?" Spain nodded here, "This is how you know that they aren't like us. Ours are a much purer white – and the leaves and stems of our flowers are lush, dark green." She looked happily at the flower and continued to caress it in her hands, "Based on how beautiful this place is, I would say that this is going to be a very beautiful region,"

Spain could only nod, captivated, "Yeah," he muttered, "… Just like you."

France stopped what she was doing, then blinked twice before she giggled, "Why thank you, Spain," she looked up at the setting sun and sighed, "It's time for me to go, _mon ami," _ she started.

The brunet scowled, "I wish the sun would never set."

She laughed again – oh how nice it was to hear! "That might just be you, Spain."

"Stop that," he said, standing and offering her a hand, "You can stop calling me by my country's name. We're friends right?" he saw her nod to his statement, "My name is Antonio. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

She practically beamed as she took his hand, "_Merci_," she said, giving him a small peck on the cheek.

"My name is Francis Bonnefoy."

And without waiting for any form of reply, the young blond left.

**X.o.X**

The sunlight streamed into the room and Francis groaned – _was it morning already?_ He slowly sat up to find himself in an inn, recalling that he had arrived in his port of destination earlier than usual, "Antonio…" he muttered as he looked down at his own hands, "…I'm sure that it was Antonio."

If there were any supposed arguments to his initial thought, they were all swept aside by a curt knock on the door.

"Captain Francis!"

Brilliant brows furrowed, Francis called out, "Yes, enter."

Immediately, instead of the officer he had allowed, a small, white bird flew into the room and landed on his lap. It chirped happily, before holding out its leg.

"Oh Pierre," Francis worriedly, untying the small roll of parchment before shooing away the bird, "Last time you caught me off guard you gave me bad news."

This time, he wasn't sure how to take it:

_Mademoiselle gone. Captain Kirkland. On our way now._

* * *

**A/N:** ... Any requests, though? (No. It will not go back to FrUk. Don't test me.)


	7. Capitulo 6

**A/N:** I actually wasn't going to put any other OC aside from Alicia, but... Never mind! ^_^ I hope you all enjoy this one, because I've got Dark!Spain again, but well, it's his Pirate days, so it's aptly put. Anyway, muchas gracias to everyone who has been reading this, I hope I don't let you down with my work. If you want to understand more and have head-canons about this story, drop by Alicia's character page on FB. She's there ;) Again, muchas gracias!

* * *

Although she knew that it was _Arthur_ she was with, Alicia couldn't bring herself to sleep. Not when she was in his bed. And he was across her, on a desk, working on papers. And not with her thoughts of Francis running through her mind continuously, gracefully, as though a zephyr carried it where they remain. She groaned – it was already uncomfortable that knew that Arthur was her former Captain and brother – Antonio's – lover, but for him to also be once Francis' lover? She sighed. There must not be an end to this, would there? There would always be a web of things whenever nations and their kingdoms were involved – ah, at least her brother Juan was out of the picture. Someone would probably get castrated or brutally murdered if her brother, Juan Castillo, found out that she had left the Spanish Armada (and that someone would be blond and French).

After a few moments, Arthur set down his quill, "Are you really just going to lay awake there and stare at me?"

Alicia awoke from her stance and blinked a couple of times, before she tore her gaze away, "… I just really can't sleep, Capitan."

Arthur sighed and opened his mouth to speak when, all of a sudden, there was a knock on the door and someone spoke from the outside, "Captain Kirkland? We've arrived."

"All right," replied the blond Captain, earning a confused gaze from the Spaniard in his bed, "Drop the anchor on the starboard. This won't take long."

Honey-brown eyes glistened with worry – they couldn't be in France yet, could they? It took her a longer time to get to Canada than that. However, before she could even open her mouth to say something, Arthur answered her queries, "We're in the New World."

"… America?" Alicia asked, sitting up from the bed. Arthur nodded curtly, "What are we doing here?"

"We're paying a visit to my little brother, of course," replied the blond, taking off his hat as he stood and adjusting his coat, "You can stay here if you want~"

"No, no," she said her words too quickly that it slightly startled the Englishman, "I… I'm coming with you." And she jumped up to her feet and scrambled for her boots.

Arthur chuckled and took a box from one of his shelves before opening the door, "I'll wait for you on deck." She was surprised to find him still on deck when she walked out with her boots and the red coat that Francis had lent her. He was musing over a small box in his hands, but he said nothing as he nodded at her in acknowledgement, "Come on, lass~"

And the Englishman led the way down to the dock, and they walked only a few kilometres, possibly only half-way there when they both heard extremely loud shouting:

"Arthur! Arthur! ARTHUR-?!"

The teen had come running up to them in full speed, charging – and bringing along a horse over his shoulder, of all things – and startling the Brit so much that he had held his arm out protectively behind him, covering up Alicia but the teen stopped abruptly upon seeing them, making the horse neigh in disagreement. She stared at him so long, because something about him irked her – like she had seen him before.

"…" He blinked a couple of times, his cerulean blue eyes trying to decipher what was in front of him, when he set down the horse in his arms, allowing it to gallop quietly away before blatantly pointed at Alicia, "… Who's that?"

"Alfred!" Arthur scolded, making Alicia and the blond before them wince, "I raised you to be more polite than that!" and the Englishman huffed, and took the boy by the shoulders, leading him to his own house, "Come on, let's go inside and we'll have a short chat…"

Only when the boy stole one final glance at her did Alicia realize what was bothering her about the boy: he looked like Mathieu. Almost exactly – the only difference being the Canadian's captivating violet eyes, and that unruly curl that graced his face. She was a few steps behind when she realized she should have been following.

Once within the American home, Alicia was quietly sitting in the sofa, a vague sense of déjà vu coming upon her when the Arthur walked back in, his coat gone as he attempted to dust off his shirt while the American walked nervously beside him. He glared at Alicia, sending daggers if looks could kill, and it seemed like the Brit was the only one oblivious to the tension. The young man had brought her a cup of coffee, and he handed Arthur a cup of tea. He missed that scowl on the young boy's face. It was enough to make the Spaniard sigh – and Arthur had the audacity to lecture _her_.

"What's wrong, m'dear?" he asked, hearing the young girl's release of breath.

"Nothing, Capitan," Alicia shook her head before she looked up at the two men.

"'Capitan'?" Alfred asked, turning to Arthur with that odd look of disbelief, "Your new girlfriend is a Spaniard?" he turned to Alicia with a scrutinizing look, "A _pirate_ Spaniard?"

Arthur, who was half-way through his tea, choked and sputtered, emerald eyes widening and spilling a couple of droplets of tea on the carpeted floors, "Bloody hell, what?!" he demanded from the younger blond, who was taken aback, "What in the _bloody hell_ gave you the idea that Alicia is my fucking girlfriend?!"

"I-I…" Alfred stuttered, "Y-you… I thought…"

Arthur sighed and set down his cup beside Alicia's coffee cup, "Alfred, this is Alicia Aragon," he explained, holding out a hand for the young Spaniard to take, "She is somewhat like us – but only a representation of a region. She is the Crown of Aragon, one of the two major Kingdoms in Spain. Alicia, my dear," Alicia pulled herself up using the hand he offered, "This is my…" he looked at the American, who was a good two inches taller than him, "… _little_ brother. Alfred F. Jones."

Alicia curtsied, "A pleasure to meet you, _señorito_," she said.

The accent in her voice pushed a slight blush to rise in Alfred's cheeks, "Uh… Likewise, I suppose," he scratched the back of his head, "And, uh… I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."

"Oh, it's quite all right~" Alicia smiled lightly, making Arthur raise an eyebrow at her, "It's just that if you know Capitan enough-" her eyes darted towards the Englishman for a brief moment, "-you would probably know how much more possessive he is than you are."

Arthur scowled, but Alfred, although turning an excellent shade of pink, raised an eyebrow, "He's-?"

"Never you mind!" Arthur, bypassing red for a moment, temporarily glared at Alicia, who walked back to her seat, taking her coffee cup and pressing her lips gently unto the edge. He huffed as she took a sip from her coffee, cringing at how light it was – probably – before turning back to his little brother, "I think you already know that I'm currently attempting to handle relations with Spain-"

"-And he's doing a _marvellous_ job-" muttered Alicia, earning an inquiring gaze from the young American.

"-and I have _absolutely_ no time to deal with any other matter aside from Antonio and his armada." The Englishman finished, ignoring Alicia's comment.

"I don't mind Antonio," Alfred shrugged and grinned, "He gives the coolest gifts!" And he pointed at something sitting across them.

"A guitar," Alicia nodded as she noticed and took another sip from her coffee – it was very sweet, probably an American blend, "I hope you have learned how to play~"

"It's so cool!" she could almost see the stars in the excitement in his eyes, "Tell him thanks when you see him, okay?"

Alicia nodded again, albeit knowing the fact that it could take a while for that to happen. Suddenly, Arthur seemed to have had a revelation, "Ah. Which reminds me…" he took the box he had set on the table and held it firmly in his hands. It wasn't very big, about three inches tall, and four inches wide, but even the young Spaniard looked at it rather curiously – it was hand-made by Antonio himself, she knew how his varnish looked like specifically. She didn't say anything, but Arthur turned his emerald eyes to the young American, "… Antonio gave this to me. He told that it was a puzzle. To _help you grow up_," the Brit didn't notice it, but the moment he said his last phrase, Alfred's eyes widened in shock.

"O-oh," he began, nodding and making Alicia think that there was something beyond that, "… What is it?"

Arthur shrugged and handed him the box, "He said it was a music box."

Alfred nodded again and took the box from the Englishman's hands, "Thanks, I guess." He nodded and excused himself to keep it, and Arthur sat down beside Alicia to continue drinking his tea. The young American, however, did not return to mingle with them any longer.

**X.o.X**

"It's a riddle."

Alicia had come into the young American's room, with permission from both Alfred and Arthur, only just to bid him farewell when she found him in front of his desk, the music box open in front of him, but not playing anything. Instead, he had seven small vials in front of him, one of each colour of the rainbow, then one small piece of paper, and a small roll of parchment. Alfred had looked up when she entered, and nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he started, looking down at it in despair, "And I've been trying to figure it out since I came in. I know that I'm supposed to dab one of these coloured-things in the paper here to get the box to play music, but…" he sighed and held up the parchment, "I can't figure out this riddle."

The young Spaniard raised an eyebrow and walked over, her boots thumping against the floorboards and snatched the parchment of instructions from his hands. She turned to him for a moment with her honey-brown eyes, "You sound extremely different from your brother."

Blue-eyes widened and Alfred looked up at her, "Y-you know Mattie?"

Alicia nodded and unravelled the scroll, "Yes," she began, "Your twin, I suppose."

Alfred said nothing, but waited for her reply. Much to his surprise, a small smirk played upon her lips, "_Dios mio,_" she began, "Capitan is being rather sentimental."

"Eh?" the young American seemed confused but Alicia shook her head.

"No, don't mind me," she started, handing back the scroll to him, "But use the green one. I wish you all the best, _Alfredo_."

"W-what?" but Alicia had begun to step out of his room. Alfred unravelled the tiny scroll once more, before a hot rush rose to his cheeks. She was right – it _was_ green:

_The eyes of those that shone for you_

_The eyes that mirrored mine_

_One day, it shall release you, free you_

_But for now, prepare for your time_

_-Capitan Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo_

**X.o.X**

Francis couldn't help it. He had clenched and unclenched his fists so many times, and had paced around the room to a point that the men were beginning to feel dizzy. Alicia was taken from him, from his own ship. By _Arthur_ – he gritted his teeth as he thought of it. What else did the man want? It wasn't like he tortured her, or did anything to her that was out of her consent. _Mon Dieu_, what did that damned eyebrows think of him? Francis sighed and continued on pacing. It wasn't until there were heavy footsteps on the stairs in front of his room that he stopped and turned to the doorway with wide eyes.

"Have you good news for me?"

George nodded, "Yes, but perhaps not the one you seek, sir. Forgive me."

Brilliantly shaped eyebrows rose to question the statement, "What do you mean?"

"You see, sir," his First mate began, never forgetting to give him respect, "I've asked our allies from within the Armada itself, and I've told them our worry, questioning the English whereabouts without telling them about _mademoiselle_. Apparently, Captain Kirkland left their ship three days after we did. If he'd stopped in Canada, there's no knowing where he is by now,"

"_Merde," _Francis cursed under his breath, "But what is it that you _do_ have for me, then?"

"Ah, yes!" George exclaimed, as though to only remember fully, "Captain Carriedo was also not in his ship. They told me he is in this town – in Zaragoza – before he will head back to the port in Aragon and sail to the East. I know that you have gone to his house a few days ago and have failed to talk to him-" Francis nodded here, "-So what better opportunity than now?"

Uncharacteristically, Francis gulped. He would be talking to his best-friend, no problem… But he has no idea where his best-friend's sister is. The very sister who stowed-away with him; the sister he accepted. The sister he took as his Consort, and the sister whose affections he was currently craving for (not that Antonio would know about it, of course, but he would never say that out loud either, no way). It also just happens that she is the same sister that Antonio would kill for, would murder him for – brutally, intimately, and in every way the Spaniard knows he fears. Francis cringed – the odds weren't looking good.

But he shook his head – no. He was a country, a goddamn nation for God's sake. Even if there was a possibility that his best friend would flay him and brutally murder him, he had to accomplish the task for his country… right?

"C-Captain? Why do you look so pale?"

Francis shook his head, asked for a drink of water before sitting down on his bedside in an attempt to reorganize his thoughts.

**X.o.X**

The weather in Zaragoza was nothing short of defining Spain – not as dreadfully hot, especially since it was spring, but was also not as considerably cool as if it were in Paris. But Francis decided not to complain, and instead make his way into the café where he knew his best friend would be. He was a couple of meters from it when he noticed that, even from afar, Antonio was not alone.

"George," he muttered to his First Mate beside him, "You did not tell me who he was meeting."

"I, er…" the man stammered, "… I'm sorry."

Francis sighed but motioned for his crewman to stay behind. Then, as he usually would, he approached the outside of the café, where Antonio was sitting with a man who looked exactly like him – except the eyes were a warm, honey-brown. The other brunet glared at Francis the moment he was in sight, but Antonio's brows perked up and he stood up to meet the Frenchman, "Francis? _Amigo, _what brings you here?" and he pulled the blond into a warm embrace, which Francis walked into quite obliviously, "And more importantly…"

"I only-" but Francis stopped, feeling something sharp prodding the base of his back, sending a cold feeling down his spine. He pulled away from Antonio's embrace, to find the Spaniard with an expression that nearly drained his face of colour: his best friend had that wicked smile etched upon his face, with that grim, sadistic gleam in his eyes, and the way the dagger was pointed at his back told him that Antonio meant business, "T-Toni, please… Calm down. I wanted us to talk."

Antonio looked at him for a few moments, considering and pondering, before he sheathed his blade and sighed, "All right, _amigo_," he began, sitting down and pointing at the chair before him, "I will hear you out for the sake of our friendship."

The moment colour had returned to his face, Francis sat down with a short sigh of relief, "Th-thank you, I suppose," he started, his blue eyes meeting Antonio's green ones, "I had hoped this would be a short and informally political discussion…"

Much to his surprise, Antonio laughed hollowly, sending shivers down his spine once more, "You take away _mi hija_, and yet you come here and ask for the diplomatic ties in _her_ land?" he laughed again, "Why would I give you what you already have?"

"Wait, _what_?!" the other brunet, who was only listening into their conversation for the most part, had suddenly slammed his hands on the table, quite forcefully that it shook violently, stood up and turned to Antonio, "What the hell did **he** do to my sister?!"

Francis gulped, "… S-Sister?"

"Ah, right," Antonio nodded and jerked his head in the direction of the seething man, "This is Juan Castillo, Alicia's brother…" Francis raised an eyebrow here, "I think you may know him as… _Reino de Castilla._"

Ocean-blue eyes widened, "_He's_ the one who's been fighting with me?"

"The very same," grunted Juan, glaring at Francis and clenching his fists tightly, "Now… What did you do to my sister?"

"Nothing out of her consent, trust me!" The blond sighed – these Spaniards sure were over-protective about their family. He raised his hands in resignation at the narrowed eyes of the Castilian, "Trust me! I would _never_ hurt her!"

"You better not," Antonio said smoothly, seemingly the only one calm about the whole situation and fiddling with the cross that hung around his neck, "Because, I think you already know that _I_ would know, _mi amigo_," then, he turned to Juan, "_Hermano_, don't take it out on him. Alicia ran away of her own accord."

"She **what**?" Juan looked taken aback, his voice obnoxiously loud that both Francis and Antonio cringed, "H-how can my dear, sweet-"

"She isn't a child anymore, Juan, calm the fuck down." And when Antonio's eyes found Francis, the Frenchman nodded in understanding: he was being given permission – all the permission he had ever hoped: over Alicia, and over the ports he wanted. The young Spaniard glared at Francis once more, sitting down grudgingly, with his arms crossed over his chest like a child, "However…" And all of a sudden, Antonio's expression had him weak in the knees again. Green eyes glistened with malice and just a hint of sadism as the Spaniard leaned over the table and pressed himself so close to Francis that the Frenchman could smell the scent of the sea from him, and whispered in his ears, "Hurt her truly and deeply, and I will send you twenty-thousand leagues under the sea… Understood?"

"_Oui._" When Antonio pulled away, his ordinary, happy-go-lucky and slightly air-headed smile was plastered on his face, making Francis even wonder what the hell had just happened, "I understand completely _mes ami_."

"Excellent!" the Captain sank back into his chair and turned to Juan, "As for you… The answer is still no. I am _not_ giving you my battle-axe, especially not after that expression you just gave my comrade." His eyes turned to Francis and he winked.

Ah. There was the Toni he knew.

"B-But!"

"No 'but's, Juan. Honestly, your temper is worse than mine."

* * *

**A/N:** So, how was it? ^_^ I do not demand reviews, but if you would request something that I am capable of putting in (eg. Jeanne d'Arc, Frain, etc.) I will be more than happy to comply in exchange for one ;) Te quiero mi amigo~


	8. Capitulo 7

**A/N: **Wow. This took a lot of time to write, especially since RL was getting in the way -_-U But at any rate, here it is! It isn't proof-read (again) and is the product of my sleepless nights once more. I'm starting to become excited because I'm only a few chapters away from the really dramatic parts _ My rp partner already knows about that, so I hope you guys all tune in to read it :)

Muchas gracias!

* * *

The Frenchman had arrived in Cherbourg, a sigh escaping his lips as he recalled how he had narrowly escaped his own best-friend's fury. The current circumstances were very dangerous territory (which he, self-admittedly, had dragged himself into) and he must tread ever so lightly. It had made his crew sail as fast as they can towards Spain, before picking him up and heading down the English Channel, where they awaited the English ship.

"If we are lucky," began George, "We will be there before they are."

But ah, Francis had no such luck.

The moment he set foot on the harbour at Cherbourg and into his favourite inn, a handkerchief with strong and nauseating chemical was forced upon his nose and mouth, rendering him unconscious. The moment he stirred, he found himself facing a familiar room, and the strong scent of brewed tea mixing in with the scent of the sea. He groaned. Not now. Not this – anything but this, actually. He didn't want to-

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Arthur?!" Francis demanded, sitting up from the bed and meeting shocked, green eyes. Well, there goes his temper.

"… Eh?" Arthur picked up his teacup casually and took a small sip, "Why, I'm having tea~" he turned to the other blond and pointed at the empty chair before him, "You can sit and have some too."

A growl escaped the Frenchman's mouth, "You have me kidnapped just so that we can have _tea_?!"

The Englishman nodded, savouring the tea in upon his tongue, "Pretty much."

Annoyed, Francis say up and sat in the chair before him, "This better be peach chamomile because I really want to wring your neck right now."

Arthur only chuckled, "Your preference in tea is so easy to remember," And he poured the Frenchman some tea for himself, "Honestly, this is a little bit non-professional,"

"Oh, is it?" Francis took the tea-cup the other had offered, "Then what's all this about?"

A serious expression then befallen and engulfed Arthur's very being, "Tell me," he started, emerald eyes looking up with a slight air of sternness at Francis' ocean-blue eyes, "What do you feel towards Alicia?"

Francis' heart skipped a beat, "What does that have to do with anything?" he wasn't ready to divulge anything just yet, especially not anything intimate.

Arthur scoffed, "For the moment…" his emerald eyes pierced right through Francis' very being.

"Everything."

**X.o.X**

"_Sun kissed skin and tired eyes,_

_And you've never seemed so far away_

_White sails and clear, blue skies, for a moment_

_But for you, I'd wait…"_

The bundled-up Italian in her arms gripped the front of her blouse tightly as she trailed off in the song, "… More."

"Hm?" Alicia looked down at the child in her arms as they lay ready for a good night's sleep, "What was that, Lovino?"

Amber eyes looked up at her pleadingly, and the Southern Italian pouted lightly, "Please sing some more?"

A soft chuckle escaped the Spaniard's lips, "Why don't you sing with me?"

"But-" Lovino attempted to argue, but Alicia pressed an affectionate kiss upon his forehead, making him wince slightly, "You sing so much better, _mama_,"

Alicia smiled at the compliment, "But you are also a very good singer, _hijo_," she embraced the little boy tighter, "Come now, sing it with _mama_~"

If he was the least bit apprehensive or reluctant, all of Lovino's inhibitions disappeared when Alicia opened her mouth to sing:

"_Another day, another day,"_ she sang, nuzzling the child's nose and making him giggle, "_Darling won't you tell me there's-"_

"_Another way,_" sang Lovino, _"Another way…"_

"_To be with you tonight,_" Alicia sang with him and beamed, meeting his amber eyes with hers.

However, the child still seemed restless, disappointed and – to a certain extent – lonely. He buried his head into Alicia's bosom, and just like that, she knew that he was already crying, "Lovino…" she started, but the child had begun to sob.

"S-stupid Spain…" he cried, muttering into his mother's arms, "H-he… He promised he'd…" but Alicia could only embrace him and hope the pain away.

However, before either of them could say anything, large wooden doors opened slowly and a familiar voice began to sing, making Lovino sit up and turn to the direction of the sound:

"_I open my eyes to the sun rising_

_And all I see is ocean blue-"_

And the Captain of the Spanish Armada entered the room, his voice slightly trembling, but smiling as his gaze never left the two figures of Alicia and Lovino.

"_Keeping an eye out,_" Antonio continued, making his sister grin, "_On the horizon,"_

"_Watching for some sign of you..."_

Alicia beamed. Lovino didn't tear his gaze off the Spaniard that just arrived, and Antonio stared at the pair of them expectantly, "… I'm home."

At once, the child turned to his mother – as though seeking permission – and Alicia nodded. Lovino jumped off the bed and ran straight into Antonio's arms, tears brimming in his eyes, "You fucking idiot!"

Antonio laughed heartily as he carried the little Italian in his arms, burying his head in the crook of the boy's neck, "Ah, Lovi~" he smiled, squeezing him a little, "I've missed you too."

For some reason, Alicia knew it was slightly messed up: being the mother, and her brother technically acting like the father. However, she didn't really care so much. There was enough love in their family – which she would really love to call it – for it to be able to function as such. And these moments when they were so evident were the times she'd like to keep for the rest of eternity.

**X.o.X**

Honey-coloured eyes opened lightly, and she found herself in the bed she shared with the French Captain. She had almost thought he had come home, because she could take in the strong scent of his cigarettes, but then she realized that in her arms lay the red coat she had been wearing the past two weeks. A soft sigh escaped Alicia's lips, "What the hell am I doing?"

She pushed herself off the bed and slid into her boots. Everything that the Englishman had said came dawning upon her: her decision had been something that's been in the back of her mind for a while, but what followed after had been all upon impulse. She didn't know the French Captain would be massively charming. She didn't know he would look at her in a way nobody ever has. And she, for the sake of all that was good, never and still don't understand whatever this is that she had. This quickening pace of her heart, the butterflies she felt in her stomach, plus her desire to be close to nobody else but him… _Did Francis put a spell on me?_ Alicia shook her head as she put on the coat and walked up to the door, knowing that it wasn't the case.

Her hands held the knob tightly, fearing what she would see outside. Would he be back, just as he said he would? Two weeks had drifted by so fast, but she wasn't really sure anymore. Was he slovenly? Would he forget about that promise, because it was but a small one?

Her eyes closed in hopes of an answer, but she could see nothing even then except the colour of his eyes. Opening her eyes once again, her mind hovered over the dream, and the old lullaby she sang to the little Italian she considered her son:

_I open my eyes to the sun rising_

_And all I see is ocean blue_

_Keeping an eye out on the horizon_

_Watching for some sign of you…_

Swinging the door ajar, she finally realized what it was that she had been feeling: longing.

**X.o.X**

Francis had finally made it to back to his ship without any form of a wound or bruise whatsoever. His Navy ship had been expecting him, naturally, and he was glad to have left it in such good hands.

"_There's something you need to know about Alicia…"_

The Frenchman sighed. There really was a lot of struggle about this, wasn't there? All the odds seem to just say that there was something about this young Spaniard that was so strangely taboo that it was so alluring. He never had trouble like that with anyone else he's ever loved, most of them just fell into pieces, and sometimes it made him feel like love should be as natural as that. Especially him and Jeanne, and how he had fallen head-over-heels in love with her. But alas, he only loved him as her country, and never as a man…

However, Alicia was completely different – she seemed to know how to handle him both as a man and as a nation. She understood the implications of being with him, and what it meant for her to be away from her homeland, and from the nation that had made her the Kingdom that she was. And she made him do one thing he has never done before: question his feelings. What was it, exactly, that he felt? Before Alicia, it he had performed intimate acts with no strings attached, no emotions and no guilt. But now, his heart would beat fast when he would see her smile, or deny how she feels, or even just speak to him with her amber eyes staring deep into his. What _was_ this feeling? Could it really be-?

Francis sighed again as he climbed aboard and leaned upon a railing on the main deck, running an exasperated hand through is shoulder-length curls before binding them with a soft, red ribbon.

Why was he even acting like this? Surely, he was desecrating whatever remaining emotions he has for Jeanne by questioning himself, yes? But… Jeanne would also want him to love again. And, was this what it was?

"_She's been… hurt… by the crew here. It's not something you would wish on anyone."_

Yes, well, he didn't wish for his former lover to be engulfed in flames either, now, did he? Francis groaned in frustration, clenching his fists. Times are harder now. And Alicia isn't as easy to manage as any of the others who just fell upon his feet – she was completely different, and she threatened him in ways nobody has (and he had to admit, it was highly attractive and somehow makes him breathless), which seemed to be proof of that there was something about her that was of extremely high value – that she would be worthy of all the effort.

… _Right? _He had never been so unsure and sure of something at the same time. But it wasn't like he was complaining.

"Ah," he breathed out, finally, looking out at the open waters on the starboard side, "Why does the past always seem better than the present?" Well, maybe there was a _little_ bit of complaint. It _was_ getting him to over-think, after all.

"Really?"

Ocean-blue eyes widened to its fullest and when he turned, Francis found Alicia scowling behind him, arms crossed in front of her chest, still donning the red coat he had left her. For a long time, he just blinked: had she heard?

"Tch," she muttered, "You leave me alone for two weeks, _two damn weeks at sea_," he winced as she repeated it with much fervour, "… And you come back talking like that when you return?!"

"I-I…" Why was he scared of her being angry again? "I was in Spain!" he blurted out. Alicia's amber eyes widened – wait, didn't she know that?

"Y-you were… where?" she asked in a low voice.

"… Didn't I tell you that?" Alicia shook her head, "I told you that I had to talk to allies, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you never told me you were in my _homeland_," her tone became biting, sending a wad of guilt to befall the Frenchman, "I can't believe you, running around in my home and not taking me with you… Were you flirting with other women?"

"What?" Francis gaped at her in disbelief, "No! Of course not! Where would you-?" he released a short, exasperated breath, "… Arthur told you."

Alicia didn't breathe a word but glared at him.

"W-wait, why are you even scolding me?" Francis stepped up to her, "I'm your Captain!"

"I can do whatever the hell I want because you seem to be doing just fine without me!" amber eyes widened when Alicia realized the implications of what she just said, and she turned in attempt to hide the redness that had risen to her cheeks, "… I should just go back-"

"Oh, _mon cher,_" and Francis pulled her by the hand and wrapped his arms around her, burying his head in the crook of her neck, "I missed you too."

If possible, the colour in Alicia's cheeks darkened, "Wh-what?!" she demanded, trying to push him away, "I-I… I didn't say that!" she stopped struggling, however, and looked up to meet his gaze, "… Did I?"

Francis chuckled, "_Non_," he began, kissing her forehead affectionately, "But I am very good at reading people."

She tore her gaze away, tears filling her eyes slightly, but embraced him tightly, gripping the back of his shirt, "I… I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"It's all right," he whispered, soothingly rubbing her back as he realized she was close to tears, "Believe me, I've heard worse. There is no need to cry, _mon cher_. All is forgiven." And he smiled warmly at her.

Much to his surprise, Alicia pulled away, "W-were you telling me the truth?" she started, avoiding his gaze again, "When you told me that you missed me?"

Francis resisted the urge to laugh, "Of course," he started, pulling her close to him again and brushing away loose curls from her face, "You're one of the very few people who have threatened to do unspeakable things to my manhood," he shuddered lightly, but grinned down at her, making her chuckle, "I missed your fieriness,"

Alicia grinned at him – and again, Francis felt butterflies in his stomach, "I'm probably the one most capable to do it too," Then, he felt himself pulled into a warm embrace by her, "But never worry… I won't. Ever."

"Thank goodness," the Frenchman chuckled and returned the embrace, lightly nuzzling her, "I was worried." And making her turn slightly pink again, he winked.

She giggled – a sound he'd never heard before – and he felt his heart wrench in ways it never had in the past, "Two weeks is long, Capitan~" she started, looking up at him, "Longer than I thought it would be."

"_Oui, mon cher,_" he lightly nuzzles her neck in an attempted apology, "I do apologize, it was a sudden trip."

The Spaniard in his arms, however, scowled and turned away, "Don't think your sweet words and hugs would make up for it."

He gently lifted her chin up to face him, and leaned down so close that his nose nearly touched hers, "Then what will?"

The pink in her cheeks returned, and, much to his surprise, Alicia spoke in her native tongue, "_Besame._"

A smirk played upon Francis' lips, "_D'accord._"

Naturally, he bent down to place a gentle kiss upon her lips. And when it wasn't enough, he felt himself pulled by the collar, and the kiss went from chaste and innocent to deep and passionate in no time at all, making Francis realize that he must really have just thought too much about what it was he felt about this feisty Spaniard.


	9. Capitulo 8

**A/N: **Okay... So I enjoyed writing this, and I'm sorry it took quite long. Someone remind me that I actually have to get some sleep now, por favor? Hah. At any rate, SpUk for the lovers, and a ton of FrAli fluff :3 Gracias! (warning: not proof-read)

* * *

Antonio ran a hand through his chocolate-brown locks and heaved a heavy sigh. Castile was urging him to battle against the English again, their top competitor in the vast seas. Now, how exactly was he going to do that? The world had been divided between him and his Portuguese brother (although honestly speaking, he had quite a number of cheats on that), and this ship had only been re-fixed after the terrible state it was left in, after sailing towards the pacific: for sure, _Victoria_ has seen better days. However, he had no intentions of following the court. It was the main reason he and Alicia had gone out to sea, anyway. Neither of them were meant to deal with the nasty attitudes humans have – ah, if they only knew. He shook his head as he climbed aboard his vessel, chuckling to himself in dismay.

Several of his sailors, however, gave curt bows as he passed by, "Capitan."

"Is my quarters ready?" it was his immediate question – he wanted to get out of there. He wanted to freely sail the seas once more.

The nearest man to him nodded, "Done and already occupied, Capitan."

"Bue- wait, what?" The Spaniard had finally registered in his brain what his crew had said, and Antonio immediately took off in a dash and burst into the Captain's quarters. Surely enough, there on his bed, lay the still form of a slumbering Arthur Kirkland, his golden-blond hair evidently sticking out of the covers.

The Englishman opened a bleary eye at the sound of the doors opening and closing, and finally seeing the Spaniard, he closed his eyes once more, "You're fucking late."

_How familiar._

Antonio laughed, "I didn't think I'd be able to see you this soon," he started, taking off his coat and tossing it into the nearest chair, "Did you miss me that much?"

"Don't be so full of yourself," Arthur grumbled, turning his back on the Spaniard, who grinned at the words unspoken, "I just like your bed, that's all. It's more comfortable here, and so warm…"

It took every bit of Antonio to think twice and not jump into the bed with his lover and supposed enemy, "Of course it is warm, _mi corazon_," he began, making his way towards the bed and sitting at the bedside, kicking off his shoes, "There is love here."

For a long time, Arthur was silent, and Antonio watched how long both of them would stand being that close to each other, without ripping each other's clothes off.

"… I'm honestly not wearing anything under these covers."

Well… That was one less set of annoying clothes to worry about.

"You know just the right words to say." And without further ado, Antonio pried away the sheets, pressed himself against the smaller man and cupped Arthur's face in his hands, kissing him breathless. Naturally, Arthur could only comply, and completely lose himself in one of the most passionate lovers he's ever had.

**X.o.X**

"When _exactly_ are you planning to bring out that kind of innovation?"

Arthur shrugged as he watched Antonio mindlessly entwine their fingers together, kissing the back of his hand.

"I figured the prototype should be fixed first before bringing it out to the world," replied Arthur, his green eyes meeting Antonio's, "The twins are doing a marvellous job, although of course, it's just the two of them, so it's not much to dwell about."

"Still," started Antonio, looking up at the wooden ceiling of his quarters, "That makes long-distance communication much easier. Imagine the kind of world with that… what do you call it?"

"Telephone."

"_Si_, that's good," And Antonio grinned.

The Englishman chuckled and said nothing for a long time, before he sighed and closed his eyes, squeezing Antonio's hand, "I talked to Francis."

Antonio stared at the Brit at first, before he drew a deep breath, "I did too."

"Wait, what?!" Arthur turned to the Spaniard in disbelief, who nodded, quietly, "When- how?!"

"He was in my place for a business trip, apparently," Antonio began, meeting Arthur's gaze, "I'd just met with my brother when he walked into the café. He said nothing that you don't already know, and I've already thought about what you said, so I am letting her be with him for a while. I mean," he sighed, "It is better with someone I trust than a complete stranger…" however, his eyes narrowed dangerously, "… wait, when and how did _you_ talk to him?"

Arthur gulped, "J-just before I got here, actually," the Spaniard didn't seem convinced, "No, Antonio, it was just tea, honestly!" but the Englishman was starting to break into a nervous sweat, "I-I had him taken from the ship just as he got down on Cherbourg. I figured that someone had to pry out what he really felt about the girl, and seeing as you didn't seem to do it, I did. She's just like a daughter to me too, you know?"

To this, Antonio chuckled, "That makes you a pretty young father, then."

"Antonio, this is serious." And when the Brit turned to face him directly, the grin playing upon the Spaniard's lips faded.

"… What do you mean?" the Spanish Captain asked.

Arthur pondered on the right set of words to use, "I… Have never seen him like this before," and when Antonio raised an eyebrow, the Brit found it just to continue, "I mean… Are you certain that all those years ago, he never really felt anything for you? Nothing serious, completely nothing at all?"

With that, Antonio turned away, "… We were children," he began, "And regardless of that, he never said anything, so I didn't either. I mean-" his pleading green eyes met Arthur's, "Would you have believed him? Had he professed love, but seeing him act flighty with everyone else? What exactly would you believe?"

Seeing his lover's worry, Arthur cupped Antonio's face gently into his hands, "I've been with the Frog for several years too, remember?" and the brunet nodded here, "And as much as I hate him for a lot of things, and want to constantly punch him in the face whenever I see him-" Antonio resisted his urge to chuckle here, "- There _are_ still parts of him that are acceptable, if not completely good."

Antonio found it suitable to pull Arthur down for a light kiss here, which startled the Brit, but accepted the gesture of appreciation nonetheless.

"So, you mean to say…" began Antonio, finally pulling away as both he and Arthur were breathless and red in the cheeks, "That _**if**_ Francis _did_ have some romantic feelings towards _me_ back then…?"

"Yes," replied Arthur, wrapping his arms around the Spaniard and leaning into his lithe chest, "He will be drawn to Alicia, just as much as she is drawn to him."

**X.o.X**

The seas were calm in the Atlantic, and there was mellifluous sailing for once. It was as though the universe was conniving to give them both this one night of peace, one soft hum for a reunion. She wasn't used to it – but then again, anything that the Frenchman did was something out of the ordinary for her. She had never been used to affectionate embraces, loving glances and nights too hot to bear. His slightest touch made her heart want to leap out of her chest. And lying in bed with someone that wasn't her son certainly wasn't something she was accustomed to.

But it felt good, _oh yes._ Alicia had been trying to deny it to herself for the longest time, but it was starting to get much more difficult than it used to be.

"Tell me, Alicia," began the French Captain, entwining their fingers as she lay in his arms once more, in that bed they shared within the Captain's quarters, "Have you ever been to Paris?" a soft smile played upon his lips as he looked at her, "I would really love to show you my home, it is really quite beautiful."

The young Spaniard thought for a moment, "Hm…" she mused, "Rouen and Bordeaux, Capitan, but never Paris," however, she smiled warmly, looking up to meet his gaze, "If you'd take me, I'd love to go~"

"Well then, I do believe I'd have to take you," Francis said with a small chuckle, brushing away bristles of her long, black curls away from her face, "It has been a while since I had been home."

Alicia smiled contentedly at the thought, "That sounds wonderful, Capitan."

All of a sudden, the Frenchman's face fell, "Why do you keep calling me 'Captain'?" he asked, a frown evident upon his features, even in the dim light, "We are much more than crew-mates now…"

A light flush rose into Alicia's cheeks, "I-I know," she mumbled, lightly stumbling upon her words, making Francis chuckle at her, "It's just… I've known nothing but authority before, so I suppose I'm not used to it. I'm sorry… Francis."

"Don't be sorry, _mon amour_," and he kissed her forehead affectionately, "I was only wondering."

She moved closer to him wrapping her arms around his torso, making Francis raise an amused, but nonetheless pleased, eyebrow, "… You know I wouldn't have it any other way, right?"

Her quiet gesture only made Francis pull her even closer, engaging in their shared warmth, "_Oui_, of course."

And for the longest time, they fell into a comfortable silence – just the two of them, lying in each other's arms. They hadn't torn each other's clothes off that night, or any form of mischief that would equate to it. It was relaxing, and possibly refreshing for the Frenchman, who had never had this sort of experience with anyone else before. It was a kind of comfort that made him want to stay in bed and not get up – which was, even for him, usually unattainable. For once, he felt at home in the situation. Then, all of a sudden, he heard a soft, melodious tune coming from Alicia:

_"I open my eyes, to the sun rising,_" she began, "_And all I see is ocean blue._

_"Keeping an eye out on the horizon, watching for some sign of… you._"

A small smile played upon Francis' lips and he sighed happily, "I love hearing you sing, Alicia," he whispered, nuzzling her lightly, his eyes closing, "Your voice is very beautiful."

Alicia couldn't help but smile at the compliment, looking up at him, "…You're the only one I've ever sung for," she started in a hushed tone, running her hand through his hair, "It is all right, Capitan. You can go to sleep if you want. I'll be here with you."

Francis weakly opened his eyes and took her hand from his head, holding it firmly in his hand, "Okay," he began, closing his eyes once more, "But no leaving."

If it were any other case, she would have laughed at the thought, but Alicia noted the innocence and honesty in his plead. She smiled and entwined their fingers together, leaning into his chest and taking in the familiar scent of cigarettes and sweets, "No leaving, Capitan Francis…

"I promise."

**X.o.X**

It was a deal to show Arthur a lesson – nothing personal for either of them. The child (as Francis would usually refer to him) was out of control as he braved the seas and was pillaging every place that would be an ally to either him or Antonio – especially since the Brit had the Portuguese on his side. He looked up at Antonio, who was barking orders around and noticed how much the young Spaniard had grown too – a messy mane of long, chocolate-coloured hair was tied neatly behind him, and his very distinctly shaped eyes would turn to his men ever so slightly, hovering over everything that was set in place. Francis had to admit it to himself again: there was once a time when this man meant the world to him – his heart, his mind, his _everything_.

"You ready, _amigo_?" green eyes nearly disappeared in a wide, toothy grin as Antonio smirked at his best friend.

Well… Of course now, everything has changed.

"_Oui_, _mon ami_," began the blond, walking up the plank and into the main deck to stand by his friend, "We must hurry so that-"

"Toni! Toni!" Loud cries began to come from a distance, "_Un momento, por favor! Antonio!_"

Hearing his name called, and probably knowing whose voice it was, Antonio turned, his eyes widening and his breathing hitched, "_Hermana_?"

And much to the Frenchman's surprise, he was pushed out of the way when the woman arrived in the scene on a black stallion, riding right up the coast. Francis stared hard and well at her for a while, before a short gasp escaped his lips. She was typical of any Spanish woman in the age, with her long-sleeved blouses and large, thick skirts. But the amount of lace and the intricate details told him that this wasn't just an ordinary woman. Her hair flowed up to her back in long, beautiful black curls, and her eyes were just as distinctly shaped as Antonio's. They had the same sun-kissed skin, including the very shape of her face, and the only difference were her breath-taking, honey-brown eyes. For a long time, Francis was stunned. He'd never been that mesmerized by anyone's eyes ever before.

"… _Antonio, _please," Francis finally heard her plead, "Take me with you. I want to see him. I need to see that he is fine."

"It's a low blow, even for _him-_"

"Hm?" Now, Francis wanted to participate in the conversation, coming back down to meet the two Spaniards, "What is it, Toni?"

Antonio's eyes turned to him very seriously, "Arthur had Lovino kidnapped."

"Please," begged the woman before them, her amber eyes turning to plead under Antonio's fierce gaze, "Take me with you. I need my son."

At that statement, Francis raised an eyebrow, but Antonio pulled them both aboard, "We haven't gotten much time, so all right…" And the Spanish Captain began to bark orders. Once they were in open waters, Antonio hung an arm around the only woman aboard, "How are the other children, Alicia?"

"They are fine," replied the young girl, attempting a small smile, "Miguel is big enough to protect his sister for the meantime. I made sure to lock the house, and Maria can cook…"

"That's very good. At least, we have only one child to worry about," And Antonio noticed Francis' inquiring gazes and chuckled, "Ah, by the way, meet Capitan Francis Bonnefoy of the French Armada," he winked and Alicia nodded, probably knowing that he wasn't just an ordinary man either, "_Amigo_," Antonio's gaze softened at the woman in his arms, "This is Alicia," he explained shortly, "She is… somewhat like a sister to me."

"Somewhat but not quite?" Francis raised an eyebrow and Antonio could only laugh.

The brunet was about to retaliate with his usual hints of over-protectiveness when one of his men shouted, "_English Flags down starboard._"

Antonio gave Francis a knowing glance, and both of them knew that this conversation would be continued much later. They had a child to save, and the moment they had done just so (especially since Alicia made sure to run into every form of imminent danger just to save the little Italian who had, sadly, pissed himself scared), the Englishman was in the dungeon of the main ship of the Spanish Armada, with Antonio and Alicia, who had the then-slumbering Lovino in her arms. The Brit was stripped off any weapons, with hands bound behind his back. But his scowl was ever-present, and he glared at the child more than he did to either of the two Spaniards.

"What the _fuck_?!" demanded Antonio, making Alicia turn the sensitive ears of the child away from them, "You could have done _anything_," he pressed on the word angrily, "_**Anything**_else… And you dared to take Lovino-?"

"Why does that brat have so much worth to you than me?!"

The question shot through Antonio like an arrow to the heart, "…That is what this is all about?"

Arthur remained quiet, but turned away, a heavy blush evident in his face. Antonio sighed and turned to his sister – "Please leave us."

"_Si, hermano_." And just as Alicia turned, Arthur suddenly spoke.

"Eh? Your sister, huh?" he started in mild amusement, using low whispers, "Could've sworn she was part of your crew, with how she tore through my men to get that brat back… The girl would make a good pirate…"

To that Antonio nodded, "That I know," and the Spaniard sighed again, "I need to speak with Arturo alone… That means you have to go too, Francis."

And much to Alicia's surprise, Francis joined her from within the shadows he had been hiding in, and both of them went back up the deck to attempt to alleviate themselves from the awkwardness that would ensue had the two young men resolved their current sexual tensions. Especially since –

"Not really something a child should hear, hm?" Francis asked as he offered a hand to Alicia upon reaching the main deck. Below them, loud moans and unintelligible groans were heard. The men exchanged nervous glances before doing about their daily work.

Chuckling, Alicia took the hand he offered and nodded, "No. I'd rather keep Lovino innocent for as long as necessary," then, much to his surprise, she did something he certainly did not expect.

Alicia smiled. Not even at him – she smiled at the little boy in her arms.

It wasn't that he had never seen a woman smile, but there was something in this one. It was pure, it was honest, and it was something he thought only Antonio could pull off. It was a smile that would melt the whole world and rid it of its misery if it were given the chance, because _merde_, Francis felt his breath slowly taken away, he couldn't help but smile back. That smile of hers was genuine, relieved, with that tender softness to it that made it all the more beautiful, and being himself, he couldn't handle but admire such beauty. Her smile…

_Her smile was more beautiful than the sun. _

**X.o.X**

The sun hadn't been pouring into the room yet, but Francis slowly and groggily opened his eyes. He's had it with these dreams, honestly, because they all just seem so melancholic over the past. And yet, this one had certainly answered his queries over his past few thoughts… A soft chuckle escaped his lips – _with one smile, eh?_

Arms wrapped around his torso, and hands entwined in his told him that the previous night's promise had indeed been kept. The slumbering Spaniard was still indeed in his arms, and playing upon her lips was such a gentle and slight grin that the Frenchman couldn't help but bend down to lightly kiss her, before nuzzling her head lightly, intoxicating himself with the scent of coffee that had stuck to her before falling back asleep.


End file.
